#which goes against him learning that he's fine on his own. we can address that in a different fic. rn he is just sad and needs to know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercy-burning · 3 years

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Your Favorite — Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Y/N and Spencer decide to keep seeing each other in secret. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, cockwarming, heavy petting, penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (both receiving), degradation, exhibitionism, fingering, cum play maybe? Word Count: 7.5k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is... *nervous laugh* this is pure filth. Like... It’s nothing but sex scenes, y’all. Buckle in. (Also the end is a lil angsty so watch out hehehe)

———

JULY 8th

"You're sure you guys are okay without me for a little while?"

I love my mom. Really, I do.

But if she delays her bath for any longer than one more second, I'm going to burst into flames.

Thankfully it seems that Spencer is patient enough for the both of us. "Positive. You deserve to relax a little. Go. Take your bath, we'll be fine."

Mom looks to me for extra reassurance, and I give it to her with a nod.

"Okay. I'll try not to be too long."

She turns and kisses Spencer, long and lovesick, and I want to barf. What's even worse is that when she pulls away and pats my head before retreating up the stairs, he's smiling. And he's supposed to, I know that. Part of him obviously cares about my mom, and even if he's only fucking me on the side, the fact remains that he goes to sleep next to her. That's the way it has to be.

But it still makes me incredibly envious.

It's a problem.

Mom is upstairs now, but our rule is that unless we know for certain that she's not coming into sight or earshot anytime soon, we remain distant.

Still, I make my distaste for their affections known. "You guys are gross..."

Spencer laughs, his hand sneaking over the couch cushion and grazing the end of my skirt. "Jealous, are we?"

Of course, I have to make it difficult for him. "You're a genius, you tell me..."

"Hey now... You're lucky I'm giving you any attention at all... Besides, you know the rules."

I glance over at him, practically crumbling apart at the seams under his intense gaze. It's one I've gotten used to as of late, one that rivals every smile I've ever seen him give my mother.

"Doesn't make it any easier," I mumble, glancing down at where his fingers are still toying with my skirt.

"I know..." He reaches out and touches my hand, and my skin tingles. "Come here."

Even though I can hear that the bath water has only just started running from below, I comply all the same. I scramble off the couch and return on his lap, straddling him and nesting my fingers through his hair while I lean in to kiss him.

He welcomes me with open arms and an open mouth. The moment our tongues brush, I sigh and melt into him, needing desperately to be as close as possible. Our kisses then are languid and wet, and soft. We don't want to get carried away in case we need to be alert and jump apart, so it's best to keep our bodies controlled.

But as I'm learning, around Spencer, controlling myself is painstakingly difficult.

A whine escapes me when his right hand slips under my skirt and rests along the inside of my thigh, and I shift, silently begging him to give me more.

"So impatient..." he mumbles over my mouth.

I pull away and slide my hands down over his neck and shoulders, my hips rolling forward as I pout. "I haven't had you all week. I'm lonely..."

It's true.

Once all my STD tests came back clean and I got my birth control figured out and solid, the first thing he did was tell my mom he wasn't feeling well and texted me the address to his apartment. And after I told her I was meeting up with a friend, I drove over there and got my brains completely fucked out. We spent all day under the sheets, on the couch, over the kitchen counter, and then on the floor, until I had to go home and pretend like it never happened.

Since then we'd only slept together once, and that was just over a week ago, quickly while Mom ran to the store for an onion of all things. And then Spencer had been busy with consulting on new cases that his old job wanted a little help with, and once he had free time, Mom insisted they go on a date weekend.

I pout harder, stomach churning at the memory of the look he gave me before they left—a silent, sweet goodbye that had left me empty and wanting.

But he's just amused.

A smirk ghosts over his lips, red and a little puffy from the pressure of my own against them. "So I definitely can't trust you to be quiet enough to fuck you properly..."

That warrants another whine and another roll of my hips, and I can feel his hand gripping my thigh a little tighter.

"Please... Spencer, I need you..."

His name rolling off my tongue must be what makes him give into me, because I barely have time to react before he's kissing me again, using both of his hands to lift the back of my skirt up and knead my ass.

"Wait... Are you wearing..."

I grin over his lips, wiggling my ass into his touch and utterly turned on by the fact that he knows what underwear I'm wearing just by touch.

"Mhmm," I answer, nipping his bottom lip. "Your favorite..."

The sound that rumbles in his chest as he crashes his body against mine has to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. He's obviously trying not to be loud, but it's hard, and that makes the sound strained. He really wants this, wants to keep me, and to do that he has to refrain from going absolutely primal right now. He has to do anything to keep this quiet.

So he pushes me off of him, and I pout, thinking he's given up until we can get a true moment alone.

But I know that isn't the case when he spins his finger and then starts undoing his pants.

"Turn around, sweetheart," he huffs, slipping his pants and underwear down just enough that his erection emerges free. "You're gonna sit here, keep quiet, and keep my cock nice and warm, understood?"

Don't have to tell me twice... I'll fucking take what I can get.

So I spin, back up, and move all my clothing to the side, my skirt lifting as I nestle into Spencer's lap and hold my panties to the side. He laughs at my eagerness, though he isn't laughing much longer once I sink down onto him and get in real close. His hands come out to grab my chest and pull me flush against his own.

The way he stretches and fills me has my eyes rolling back, a long, happy sigh falling from my lips. I wish I could say I'm being dramatic about it, but I'm really not.

I'm genuinely relieved and satisfied with the burn.

"There's my girl," Spencer muses through a sigh of his own, his breath fanning gently over my neck right before he gives it an open-mouthed kiss.

His hands slip under the baggy sweater I'm wearing and run along the planes of my stomach, then up and up, taking the fabric with him until it rests above my bare chest. Being exposed like this, right in the middle of the living room while my mom is just upstairs, excites me more than I think it should.

While Spencer kisses and licks at my neck, his hands now gently kneading my breasts, I squirm.

He doesn't like that very much.

"Ah-ah," he warns, squeezing me tight and pulling me into him more. "Relax..."

He hooks his legs around mine then, spreading them apart and somehow filling me deeper. I whine, leaning my head back onto his shoulder and trying not to roll my hips.

Instead, I settle for clenching myself around him, and that seems to be the right move.

"Atta girl... Lay back and relax... Just feel me filling you up nice and slow..."

"Mmmm," I respond in kind as his hands loosen and glide down my body.

He's light with his touch, though the kisses on my neck feel hungry, and his cock feels heavy and thick inside me. It's a beautiful contrast, really, making me feel so full and yet so light, like I'm a raincloud.

Soon his fingers dip under my skirt and cover my hand, which is working at keeping my panties off to the side. He traces the curves of my fingers with his own, mumbling praises and scattering kisses along the side of my neck. And I'm distracted enough that I almost don't feel his other hand make gentle contact with my clit until I gasp from the sharp sensation.

I can feel his smile against my skin as he starts rubbing in slow, precise circles.

"That feel good, princess?"

"Uh huh," I breathe out, trying to keep still. My other hand digs into my knee in hopes that I can stay grounded and focused on keeping still. But despite that, I'm feeling rather calm. Satisfied...

Right where he wants me.

"Mmm..." He hums happily into my skin, continuing to kiss my neck while working my clit.

And I have no idea how long we lay there. It feels like it could be hours.

The TV is on, but we're not paying any attention to it. In the back of my mind I know that Mom could be done with her bath at any minute, but it's been too long without Spencer inside me... And even though he's not actually fucking me, just having him this close and feeling him touch me, fill me, breathe me in...

God, I never want it to stop.

I'm almost on the verge of coming, but he removes his hand from me and slides them up my stomach again.

I whine at the loss of orgasm, but he pays it no mind. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna start moving..."

I start to get excited, wiggling in his lap a little.

With a dark laugh, he brings his hands to my breasts, kneading them gently and nipping my earlobe. Getting my attention...

"But you're not gonna stop until I fill that slutty little cunt with my cum, got it? I don't care if you come more than once. I don't care if you come at all... I don't care if your mom comes down here and sees..."

I swear I almost come on the spot from his words alone.

And then his voice is somehow even darker, seeping through my skin and settling into the very deepest parts of me.

"You will not stop until you make me come, am I clear?"

I wouldn't deny him if I could. I'm so damn whipped by this man, so eager to please and be near him that he could ask me to do any fucking thing on the planet and I would.

My rational brain might have second-guessed that feeling if it hadn't been horny as fuck...

And so I get to it, maneuvering my hips and working Spencer's cock like my life depends on it. And honestly, it kind of does, because if my mother comes down and catches us I'm dead.

Despite the urgency, though, I relish every second of it. I try to remember every sensation vividly because I don't know when I'll get to feel it again. So every time I sit back down on his dick, I clench it on the way up, because I know that drives him wild and it also means I get to feel him grab me tighter.

I can't see him, not even really when I turn my head, but I can picture how he's probably biting his lip, trying not to be loud. His eyes are probably shooting daggers at the ceiling, praying to the heavens above that my mom won't come down.

But it looks like the heavens above have decided to damn us to hell.

That unmistakable sound of the drain in the tub rumbles through the ceiling and down the inside of the walls as the water travels through the pipes, and my heartbeat races faster than it ever has.

Spencer tugs my hair then, pulling my head to meet his shoulder once more. "You better hurry, little girl..."

That's when I finally come. My cunt throbs and shakes around him as I bounce as quietly as I can. His grip in my hair is tighter, urging me to keep going, and the sharp sensation seems to extend my orgasm a little.

I whimper and whine as I feel it, and that seems to be what does him in.

"Fuck, Y/N, that's it... That's my girl..."

Four more bounces from me is all it takes, and then he's holding my hips in place. He grunts as quietly as possible into my shoulder and fucks into me slowly, filling me to the brim with his cum and breathing harshly into my skin.

I can hear Mom walking around upstairs, most likely getting dressed, which means she'll be down any minute...

"Time to get up, princess," Spencer whispers a moment later, letting go of my hips.

I turn my head into his neck, whining. "I don'wanna..."

"I know, I know... But you have to."

I know he's right. But I can't just get up and lose him so quickly. I want to hold on for as long as possible.

So I tilt my head up and bring his lips to mine. Thankfully he doesn't reject me, instead returning my affections and sighing into my mouth. He's still sheathed inside me, and I can feel his cum very slowly starting to drip down.

I have to get up now...

My mouth reluctantly parts from his and pouts. I expect him to return it with a sad smile, but his lips are rather mischievous.

He smirks, lifting me off of him and quickly pulling my panties back in place. His cum instantly soaks into the thin, lavender fabric, and it only reminds me of his absence.

But then Spencer spins me around on the heels of my feet and presses his hand firmly to my clothed, sopping wet cunt under my skirt, rubbing it in and making me whimper out at the overstimulation.

"I missed you," he whispers sincerely. Sweetly...

I can't help but smile as I lean down to kiss him one more time.

"I missed you, too."

JULY 23rd

I've been looking forward to this weekend since Mom brought it up after her bath—A call from work. A weekend business trip across the country.

She would be gone for almost a whole week.

Spencer's already started on his coursework for the next school year so he'll be busy most days, but at night? That's when he's all mine.

The only hard part about this, really, is containing my excitement. Just yesterday Spencer got me alone and warned me that I better keep my cool and be patient. Though, the way he said it was hardly a bad thing considering it gave me an excuse to feel his hands on me, even in the laundry room where, more or less, this had all started.

Even now I can still feel their warmth and their heft as they grope and paw at my breasts while he attacks my neck with sloppy kisses.

But right now he's not here, and as much as I can't wait to spend the week with him, my mom is also going to be gone for that long.

Just because I'm fucking her boyfriend on a regular basis doesn't mean I don't still love her.

Though, the thought of it all makes me a little uneasy—I don't know what the future holds. I know Spencer obviously cares about my mom, but if it really gets to a point where they've been together long enough, would he ever marry her?

And then what?

It's one thing for him to be my mom's boyfriend, who doesn't live here and only stays when he can... But it's a whole other one to be my stepfather. And what if my mom wants to have another kid?

No.

I'm not even going to think about it... If it ever gets to that point, then we'll deal with it, but right now I've only known Spencer for nearly 2 months, and it's way too soon to be thinking about any of that right now.

"You gonna be alright without me for a week?"

I curl into Mom's side, laughing and thankful for her distraction. "I spend almost a whole year away at college without you, I think I can survive five days."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I wish you could just stay here with me forever."

"Ha, no you don't. I'm a menace."

"Only when you eat all my food and then complain that you're starving..."

My eyes roll affectionately. "Mom. That was one time, and I was fifteen and dramatic."

She kisses the top of my head and then rests her chin on it. "Then my point stands... You were only a menace when you were fifteen. Now you're an angel."

I can tell she's sincere, and when I tell her Thank you, it feels incredibly deceitful—Especially when she starts humming my favorite song and brushing through my hair with her fingers, just like she used to do to get me to sleep as a kid. The foggy feeling it sends through my bloodstream reminds me that I'm definitely not the same person I was back then.

Although, it is true that some things never change, and within minutes I'm soundly asleep in my mother's arms.

———

When Spencer and I are sending her off at the airport the next morning, my heart thrums wildly in my chest.

"You have Spencer's number in case of an emergency?" she asks me in a haste.

"Yes, Mom. For the thousandth time, I have his number, and I have Grandma's number, and I have just about every other number you've ever given me for emergency contacts."

She gives me The Look.

"Yes, I have it. And I'll be okay. I love you."

"Oh, I love you, too," she says, pulling me in for one last breath-reducing hug, though, that's not truly what knocks the breath from my lungs.

She goes to Spencer next, reaching up to give him a goodbye kiss. I'm expecting it. I'm okay with it.

But this is unlike any other kiss I've seen them share, and it admittedly makes me jealous.

Spencer almost has her off the ground, pressing her close to him and kissing her deeply. Her hands weave through his hair as he tilts his head, and this time I can see his tongue slip into her mouth.

"O—kaaay, my eyes are burning... Thank you for that..."

I know I can get away with that because it's a completely normal reaction to seeing your mother make out with anyone, so I don't feel bad about it one bit. And I especially don't feel bad about the warning look he gives me over my mom's shoulder when she comes to give me another hug.

But then she's gone, and minutes later we're leaving the airport parking lot, and I can't seem to shake my jealousy. Even when his hand rests politely on my knee.

The whole way home I only barely acknowledge his presence, giving him half-hearted smiles and remaining mostly still when he glides his hand higher up my leg. By the time his fingers slip under the hem of my skirt, I think he knows something is up, because it stops there.

He waits until we get in the house to bring it up.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

I plop myself down on the couch with an overexaggerated sigh. "Kinda..."

I know Spencer used to be a profiler, and really, it's not that hard to figure out what's wrong with me. But it's still a little scary how easily he just knows.

"You know I had to," he says, walking over and standing in front of me. "Keeping up appearances and whatnot."

He's right. And it's a consequence of what we've decided to do, so really I'm in no place to complain.

Still, I reach out and pull him in by the belt loops, leaning my face in rather close to his crotch. "You know... Actually, I think you just like making me jealous..."

The smile that dances over his lips is amused and downright sinful. "Oh?"

"Mhmm," I drawl, sliding my hands to the front of his pants and rubbing him through the fabric.

He laughs. "Yeah, you are pretty cute when you're all huffy."

With big eyes and a fluttering in my stomach at the way he looks down at me, I feel that pressing of jealousy start to lift off my chest. I know that within an hour he'll have me pinned under his body somehow, and the thought allows my response to come out clearly and without question.

"So how are you gonna make it up to me?"

———

We're already out of our clothes by the time we make it upstairs. And when we finally get into my bedroom, I'm about to shut the door and then Spencer stops me.

"No one's home, sweetheart... Leave it open."

He takes two steps and has me in his arms, his hands sliding down my back and resting over my ass. And when he gives it a squeeze, he grins down at me. "You're gonna be loud for me, understand?"

"Hey, that's on you," I tease, wiggling against him. "You want me loud? Make me loud."

His grip on my ass gets tighter as he pulls me closer, and I yelp out. "Don't challenge me, little girl... You'll regret it."

I laugh then, calling back to his earlier statement. "Aw... You're pretty cute when you're all huffy..."

"Alright, fine."

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees, and his hands are rooting in my hair. The rough carpet underneath me already burns, but I know in the end it's gonna be so worth it.

Spencer brings me close to his exposed crotch and tilts my head up to look at him. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude right out of your pretty little mouth, got it? And you're not gonna do a damn thing but take it like a good girl."

I would have asked him if that was a threat or a promise if he hadn't immediately shoved his dick in my mouth. It has me wet in an instant, the way he just pulls me onto him and starts fucking my face with an urgency that seems to contradict all the time we have. He needs me now, with no time for teasing or pleasantries, and I fucking love it.

Which is why I do as I'm told, enjoying every second as he holds my head still and snaps his hips forward, his velvety smooth cock gliding over my tongue and down my throat with ease. It doesn't take long for my eyes to water, my vision going blurry and my body growing hot. My face is angled straight ahead, but I still find a way to look up at him, and from this low angle?

It's the best thing I've ever seen.

No matter how many times I've been on my knees like this, staring up at Spencer as he loses himself at my hands (or rather my mouth, if you want to get technical), I swear I could never tire of it.

His eyes are glaring down at me as he concentrates, his arms are out in front of me as they hold my head in place, and his pubic bone and sculpted hips are right there, moving ferociously in front of my eyes. He's so deep in my throat for a few seconds, holding me down while I gag around him, that my nose is buried in the soft trail of hair that gathers on his skin, and I want to stay there forever.

But my gag reflex isn't much durable for more than fifteen seconds, much less forever, so I have to pull back.

Spencer pulls me off of him completely, a trail of spit following my lips and then detaching until it lands along my chin. I blink away some of the tears that had gathered in my eyes and pout up at him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're supposed to be making it up to me..." My voice is scratchy and a little hoarse now, but I know it'll probably be worse if Spencer really thinks he can make me as loud as he says (which I truly don't doubt for a second).

He tugs me up by the hair, and I whine as I get to my feet, my knees aching already. And then his mouth is on my cheek, gently kissing away a tear. "Aw, I thought you liked having my dick in your mouth..."

"I do..."I giggled a little, nestling into his body and feeling his erection, now slick with my saliva, press up against the inside of my thigh. "But I like it better in other places..."

"Mmm, you're right... I do, too..."

I certainly hadn't been expecting that answer.

But it doesn't surprise me when he walks us over to the foot of my bed and pushes me onto it. "Hands and knees, princess."

My knees still burn from the carpet, and I'm sure this squeaky-ass mattress won't alleviate the pain at all, but if there's one thing I've learned since having sex with Spencer it's that pain is all part of the pleasure.

So I don't question it. My limbs submit to his simple command, and once I turn away from him and perch myself on my hands and knees, I can feel him climbing on the bed and crawling up the backside of my body. His hands roam my ass and my waist, and within seconds he has his cock nestled against me.

He moves nice and slow at first, dragging the length of him through my slick cunt and ghosting the skin of my backside with his hands.

"Remember... Nice and loud, okay? Wanna hear how good I make you feel."

Like I could ever deny him. Even though I like to tease him and push his buttons, I couldn't think of a single thing in the moment that I'd ever deny him.

So he finally pushes into me, stretching me out well and good, and a low groan slowly rolls off my tongue like a waterfall. And I'm not doing it for his sake; It's like he draws it out of me like a syringe, and I'm utterly powerless against it... Against him.

Like I need a metaphor to explain how I'm well and truly his bitch...

"There she is..." Spencer breathes, reaching the very deepest part of me and staying there. "There's my obedient little girl... Tell me what you want."

I turn my head to get as good of a look at him as I can, and give him the pout to end all pouts. "I want you to fuck me, hard... Please?"

His answer is a gentle push forward, his body leaning over mine to take my hands and pin them behind my back, which pulls me up towards him so that my back is nearly flush with his chest. His hands are so big that one of them is able to hold both of my wrists while the other gathers my hair and tugs.

I feel like I'm being held by a bungee cord, especially when Spencer starts snapping his hips and pounding into me roughly. My knees are pushing into the springs of the mattress and lifting again with each thrust, and I can't help the stream of whimpers and shouts that escape me at the whole experience.

He lets go of my hair in favor of reaching around and palming my left tit, his pace never faltering for a second. Everything he's doing is precise and swift and so fucking good that my eyes can hardly stay open.

"I'm hearing you, pretty girl, but I don't think you're quite loud enough..." he grumbles in my ear, letting go of me and gently pushing me back down on the bed. He slips out of me and I whine at the loss, but I don't have to worry about it much longer when I feel him lay down over top of me and slam into me hard.

I yelp out, my hands reaching out and clutching the comforter for dear life. Spencer's hands, meanwhile, push up off the mattress on either side of my hips to lift himself up, and then he's grabbing my waist and pushing me into it while he fucks me.

When I instinctively shove my face down and try to muffle myself, though, one of his hands leaves my waist and comes up to tug my hair, pulling my head up. His hips pause, pressed deep into my backside, and I can feel how he's struggling to keep still.

"Uh-uh... No one's home, princess... Let it all out..."

He pulls back and plows into me again, and this time his pace is frustratingly slow. With each slam forward my voice grows louder, begging him for more with incoherence until I start to feel myself grow tense with pleasure.

"You're almost there, baby, I can feel it," Spencer breathes. His voice is far away, and I wish he was closer, his breath on my neck and his lips not far behind. But for now I gladly settle for his hands, tight and bruising on my hips, and the force of his pelvis as it collides brutally and wonderfully with my ass.

What finally brings me sweet release is the sound of him grunting out one word. A command. And once again it's like I'm powerless under his spell.

"Come."

I do, and he fucks me thoroughly through each wave. Even once I've finished, he chases his own orgasm for minutes.

By the sounds he's making and the way his hips falter here and there, I can tell he's close, but he wants to make it last. I want to tell him that we have all weekend, to maybe tease him a bit, but I'm so fucked out and incoherent that I couldn't have said a single word if I tried.

So I lay there and take it with a weary smile on my face, ever the whiny, whimpering mess that I am, and patiently wait for the moment he decides to let go.

And when he does, it's the most glorious feeling in the world. I'm tired, yes, but never tired enough to lift myself and wiggle my ass back into him, clenching myself around him and relishing in the way he grunts out my name. He empties himself into me, and I hum, positively satisfied and warm.

Before I know it, I'm sinking down within the comfort of my blankets, and I rest my head in my arms, the pillow still a little too far out of reach. And though I'm content, I still whine out sadly when Spencer retreats and leaves me feeling empty.

I'm about to tell him to get over here and cuddle me when I feel his weight redistribute, and it isn't long before he has his head between my legs, his tongue acting as a net for the cum that drips out of me. He barely touches me, only the tiniest of flicks with the tip of his tongue darting over my skin. I can't tell if I'm thankful because of the relief or if I want the burn to go on forever.

In the end, I don't really have a choice.

He pushes his tongue up, sweeping over my dripping cunt and cleaning me up. Suddenly his mouth is everywhere, making the most delicious sounds and bringing me closer to another orgasm, and all I can do is let it happen. My weary smile is joined by a fluttering pair of eyelids and a string of whimpers that are so small they don't dare drown out the words Spencer is grumbling between my legs.

Some of which, I can hear, sound out, "Another one..."

His finger adds to the mix, coming up and rubbing my clit in tight circles as he finishes cleaning up the mess he made, and within seconds I'm a writhing mess at his undoing.

I'm not sure how long it lasts, only that one second I'm tensing with another orgasm and the next I'm having my limbs moved.

Spencer is beside me in an instant, his face coming into view as I feel my breathing slow to a steadier pace. The longer I wait, the more focused I am on his features, soft and even a little concerned as he strokes some of the hair from my face.

"How are you feeling?"

The smile that beams across my face is just about the most natural thing I'd ever felt. And it seems to bring out those bright glints of adoration in his eyes that only ever serve to make my heart flutter, which makes what I tell him even more true.

"I'm happy."

JULY 27th

Waking up to Spencer next to me, while a daily occurrence these past few days, is still possibly the most surprising and comforting feeling in the world.

Our bodies never part. From the moment we lay down to sleep until the moment we wake up and decide it's time to start doing necessary daily things, not one inch of skin is untouched. Even when showering.

I think back to yesterday morning, where he dragged me out of bed because he had to pee and didn't want to leave me. I was slumped over the backside of his body while he went and then in his arms again while he ran us a shower to wake up.

It brings the widest smile to my face, however sleepy it may also be.

"What are you smiling for?"

I squint one eye open and see that Spencer is staring at me. I hadn't expected him to be awake.

"Just thinking about yesterday..."

He tightens his grip on my waist and pulls me even closer, my face instantly drawn to the crook of his neck. "Mmm," he hums as I nestle in and press a sleepy kiss to the bare skin at the column of his throat. "Which part?"

"Our shower."

I feel his thumb then, rubbing back and forth over my hip as clearly as I can feel him smile against the top of my head. "That was fun, wasn't it..."

"Mhmm," I agree. My lightly tongue traces over his collarbone before I kiss it again. "Our shower is much better equipped for sex than yours."

"So... What you're saying is that shower sex is out of the question this morning?" he confirms with a laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm saying..."

"Well then, princess, what uhh... What alternatives do you think we should try out?"

I start to laugh when he pulls my leg up over his waist and hoists me over on top of him. My face remains buried into his neck, though I trail my lips up and up until I reach his jaw.

"Hmm... What if I just ride you and see where it takes us?"

When my lips finally reach his cheek, Spencer shifts and captures them in a long, butterfly-inducing kiss before pulling away with a smile and brushing the hair from my face. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

It helps that I can already feel him hardening beneath me, and from the moment I felt his hands on me, I'd been aroused.

Though, as soon as I line him up and get ready to start our morning the right way, his phone rings on the bedside table. I'm tempted to keep going, but he half pushes me off of him when he reaches and reads the name.

"It's your mom."

That instantly kills my mood.

With a dramatic sigh and a pout, I hop off of him and curl up under the covers, letting him answer.

"Good morning," he chirps rather happily, and I try not to imagine my moms smile on the other end of the line. Thankfully I can't hear her, but I can still see Spencer smiling as he greets her and goes through all the pleasantries that come with a long distance relationship; I miss yous and how are yous...

I wonder if he really does miss her. He must, at least a little, right?

I'm staring straight ahead now, picking at my nails while I wait for them to finish talking, but something feels off.

I can feel Spencer's eyes on me.

But then he asks, "What are you wearing?" through the phone with a voice so playful and seductive, and I snap my head around, glaring at him.

"Really?" I mouth.

The smirk on his face makes me want to chuck his phone across the room.

"Mmm," he hums, looking me dead in the eye. And the next time he speaks, I swear he's talking directly to me. "Why don't you take it off... I want to talk you through some things..."

I know my mom is hearing the roughness in his voice through the phone, but right now I can see his eyes, hungry as they rake over my body once I slowly peel the blanket away and reveal myself to him, and I know that his main goal isn't to get my mom off.

It's to finish what we started before she'd interrupted.

"Touch yourself for me, baby? Nice and slow. Just relax..."

He softly crawls over to me, keeping the phone to his ear with one hand while the other takes my knees and spreads them apart.

I start to touch myself as instructed, but he swats my hand away and winks, nestling between my legs. I lean up on my elbows and tilt my head, wondering where he's going with this, when he leans his other cheek into my thigh.

"You know what I'd do to you right now If I was there?" A small pause. And then, "I'd use my fingers to slowly stretch you open... Feel you contract around me..."

His fingers do exactly like he says, and I have to stop myself from making any sound. The evil grin growing on his face as he does it all makes it even harder.

"I'd finger-fuck you nice and slow," he continues in a voice just above a whisper. "Until you're begging me for more."

When his eyes meet mine, once more I want to lean forward, snatch his phone, and smash it on the floor. I want him to utterly devour me, without any interruptions or avoidances at getting caught.

But he's such a fucking tease.

Mom must be talking on the other end, because Spencer is silent, slowly fucking me with his fingers and watching them intently as they disappear inside me. Entranced... The thought of her speaking to him and holding his attention makes me jealous— Sure, he's fucking me right now, but really, she's the one calling the shots.

I lean my head back in frustration, letting out the tiniest of whines and grinding my hips up into his hand, hoping and pleading for more.

A low laugh leaves him. "Please, what?"

It's not lost on me that my mom must have asked for more from him at the same time I did... It cements just how absolutely fucked this whole situation is, and yet I can't help but clench around his fingers in earnest, silently pleading with him to go on.

He removes his fingers from me and I sigh out, trying not to disrupt their call.

"And... How would you like me to fuck you?" he asks, looking at me with an evil grin and knowing damn well I can't actually answer.

After he gets her answer, he climbs up on his knees and spreads my legs further, throwing one of them up on his shoulder while he leaves the other on the bed. Since he only has one hand to work with, he gestures to it and I help him out, lifting my other leg up to my chest and holding it with one arm to let him get inside at a good angle.

"Yeah, and how do you want it, baby?" He lines himself up with me and very slowly sinks the head of his cock in, holding it and running his hand along my stomach. "I'm thinking... I'd like to fuck you so slow you're practically writhing beneath me..."

I stick my tongue out at him, and then without warning he slams into me. I bring a hand to my mouth and bite down on my finger, trying not to make a sound.

"You're gonna be patient... And you're gonna let me take my time... Until you're nice and desperate... Whining out for me like a good little whore..."

Each sentence is punctuated with another thrust, hard and deep, followed by a short pause, and it's all I can do not to cry out his name and beg him to go faster.

Mom must be talking on the line again, because Spencer doesn't say a word as he fucks me. His pace doesn't pick up or slow, and his own self control starts to recede—I can see it in his features. I can also feel it in the way his free hand grips my leg. He wants to go faster, he wants to lose control, and this is killing him just as much as it's killing me.

But then he pants into the phone, his voice breaking a little as he pauses and rolls his hips into me, slow and burning. I whine into my hand as quietly as possible, and he asks the question that will seal my fate.

"Where do you want it?"

I wait, clenching around him and praying for the result I want.

And then he laughs. "Yeah? You like when I paint you with my cum, huh?"

I shake my head, silently begging him to resist and stay inside me, but he only shrugs as if to say, Sorry about your luck, and then pulls out, leaving me whiny and desperate.

Just like he said.

And then, he comes all over me, stroking himself fast and hard. Even though I've still yet to feel any sort of relief, seeing him in front of me like this, feeling his warmth dance across my skin in warm spurts, and hearing him groan out as he watches my body gladly accept it all...

It's quite honestly the most satisfying thing I've ever seen.

I can't say I'm not happy, though, when he slumps down and pants, sighing out a few goodbyes to my mom and then tossing his phone on the floor when she hangs up.

He smiles at me then, and I pout.

"You're evil..."

"Mmm, you love it," he drawls, leaning down and starting to dart his tongue over the mess he made on my stomach. Meanwhile his finger finds its way inside me again, and I feel myself start to turn into a writhing mess once more.

And he's right.

I do love it.

JULY 29th

Approaching the front door with Mom in step behind me, knowing that Spencer awaits for her on the other side isn't what makes my heart jump out of my chest.

It's the look on both of their faces when they see each other.

Though I push Mom forward to go see him, it nearly breaks me seeing her run into his arms. He picks her up and spins her around, reminiscent of their little moment at the airport, and the pure happiness on her face specifically makes my stomach twist.

This time it isn't jealousy.

It's guilt.

She's... incredibly happy. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy before. She's positively beaming as she hugs him tight and buries her face into his chest.

And when he looks past her head and looks over at me, I feel it.

The heartache.

Spencer's eyes burn holes into my own, and fill them with a sympathy that makes me feel more wounded than comforted.

I wonder then if he can see it on my face; The way I'm trying not to break down and cry... The way I'm only holding myself together by the weak smile I'm wearing, both to assure him that I'm fine and also to feign happiness for my mother, rather than the aching envy and sadness that festers within every crevice of my soul.

I offer to grab more of Mom's things from the car and dart right back out the door to avoid them for a little while. Maybe to also get some fresh air, even though I'd just been outside less than a minute ago.

After flinging open the trunk of the car, I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my chest start to tighten at the realization that I might be starting to fall in love with him.

A man who isn't mine, and who could never be.

———

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

Text

sweaters, breakfast, and a cold north carolina apartment

pairing: irl karl jacobs x gn reader warnings: rpf pronouns: not used word count: 1.4k (ish) summary: sleeping over at karl’s apartment was fun! except he keeps his air way too cold... at least you have his sweaters and his cooking and him to warm you up

note: this is a fic for @dreamcatcherrs 5k event!! congrats again stella!!!! the prompt I had was “I can't get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you're having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

One of the most exciting things about the beginning of relationships was firsts. First date, first kiss, first time confessing your love for your partner… the list goes on. You were visiting your boyfriend in North Carolina and it was all exciting, but you quickly learned not every part of “firsts” was enjoyable. The first time sleeping at Karl’s apartment? Well, the weather could make it almost miserable.

Shivering lightly, you pulled your blanket closer to you, but it didn’t help much. North Carolina winters were more brutal than you expected and it seemed your boyfriend disagreed; Karl kept the air at a disgustingly low temperature considering it was snowing outside.

You looked over at his sleeping figure before glancing at the clock by his head. It was nearly five in the morning and there was no way you’d be able to fall back asleep while it was this cold. The frosty air seemed to seep into your skin and you could almost picture the ice building up over your vital organs. You were going to literally freeze from the outside in if you didn’t do anything about it.

After a quick glance around the room, you spotted a chunky sweater that had been thrown over the back of a chair when Karl was getting ready for bed and you remembered him bragging about how effective it was against the outside air when you two took a walk yesterday. You slipped out of the covers and quickly grabbed it without a second thought, throwing it on over your pajamas. It was a little chilly from being out in the cold air, but it trapped in your body heat and you could feel your arms thaw out a little. You quickly got back into bed before the air could get between the sheets and make the mattress even colder.

It was still freezing, but Karl’s large sweater was significantly warmer than just the long sleeve shirt you had underneath. It gave you butterflies to know you were wearing something of his. That was another first, wearing each other’s clothes.

You looked to Karl as you laid back down, who seemed to be just fine, spread out and looking very content despite it being the temperature of Antarctica. You decided to complain to him about it when he woke up, but he looked too peaceful to disturb now. Still wanting to make it his problem in some way, you rolled over and cuddled into him for warmth, and his sleeping arms subconsciously wrapped around you when you got closer.

Despite being wrapped in his arms and sweater, you weren’t able to get a lot more sleep, and a few hours later you woke up again. After deciding to stay up, you went to the living room to watch shows so you didn’t wake up your boyfriend. You turned on some cartoons and grabbed every blanket in the living room you could find, piling them on top of you. Halfway through one of your favorite episodes, Karl walked out, rubbing his eyes gently before smiling at you and bounding over, lightly tackling you as you lied on the couch.

“Hello, there,” you laughed as he crushed you and placed a kiss on your lips. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he responded. “What are you doing out here? Under a mountain of blankets?”

“Your room is freezing,” you explained. “I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He frowned and you leaned up to kiss his pout. “I’m sorry you were so cold,” he apologized as he stood up. “You should have woken me up.”

You shook your head. “You looked too cute, I couldn’t disturb you.”

He laughed through his nose and shook his head. “I’ll go turn the heat up and then how about we get some breakfast?”

“Yes to both of those,” you replied, peeling back the pile of blankets on top of you and pulling yourself off the couch. Karl stared at what you were wearing but didn’t say anything about the specific clothing, which made you a little self-conscious. Was he okay with the fact you stole one of his sweaters without asking?

You grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around you before grabbing his outstretched hand. You followed him into the kitchen after he changed the temperature in the apartment and looked in the pantry while he looked in the fridge.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asked.

Humming, you scanned the shelves looking for something to catch your eye. “Cheerios.”

“You don’t want any warm food like pancakes or something?”

You looked over at him quickly and your eyes followed him as he walked over to you. “You’d make me pancakes?”

He giggled and wrapped his arms behind you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. “Of course I would. Figure they could help warm you up,” he teased before adding a little quieter, “Aaaand it’s the first time you’ve slept over so I wanna show off my amazing chef skills. Nothing says ‘we should do this again’ like me making you food.”

“Karl Jacobs, you spoil me,” you joked as you turned around in his embrace to look at him.

“You’re worth spoiling,” he declared cheesily as he pressed a few short kisses to your face. “So, yes? Pancakes?”

“Yes, please. Can I help you in some way?” you asked, watching him as he started grabbing ingredients.

“Nope, just sit back and watch the master at work,” he boasted, pushing up his sleeves. You laughed at his seriousness and took a seat at the counter, observing the way he made the food like it was muscle memory. The room was much warmer now, but his sweater was way too comfortable to take off, so you resorted to removing the blanket around you. You grabbed the ends of your sleeves in your fists and rested your chin in your hands as your elbows pressed against the countertop.

As Karl finished making the last of the meal, he glanced at you and his eyes flickered to the sweater, now visible without the blanket. Gray eyes stared into yours and a small smile tugged at his lips. “What?” you asked impatiently in the silence, a nervous laugh behind your words as you continued to look at the boy. Was he about to say it was weird for you to put on his clothes without asking?

Karl opened his mouth but no words came out, a large smile taking place on his lips instead. He shook his head lightly, trying his hardest to contain the smile as he turned off the stove and handed you a plate of pancakes.

“Karl, what?” you laughed. “What is so funny?”

“Nothing’s funny,” he corrected before giggling, cheeks reddening. He placed a bottle of syrup on the counter between you as he set his own plate of pancakes down in front of him. “It’s just that... I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me... in my sweater.”

You looked down at the fabric keeping you warm and felt your face heat up at the sight of it. “Oh.” You looked back up and rolled your eyes lightly but were relieved that he finally addressed it so you knew he was okay with it. “You’re a dork.”

“It’s cute!” he defended, pride in his expression. “You know that’s one of my favorites?”

“I see why; it’s incredibly warm and soft,” you mumbled.

He giggled and just kept smiling at you. “Well I was going to offer cuddling as a solution if you’re still cold when we’re done eating, but if my clothes are warm enough then-”

“No, no,” you contradicted. “We can still cuddle.”

He smiled and a small giggle escaped. “So needy of you.”

“Shut up.”

Despite what you thought as you were kept awake through the night by the cold air, the first time sleeping over at Karl’s wasn’t miserable after all. The pancakes definitely helped, but you decided sleepovers with your boyfriend needed to happen more often.

But it really wouldn’t kill him to turn the heater on for once.

#rpf #real person fiction #karljacobs x reader #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x y/n #karljacobs x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfiction #karljacobs fanfiction

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fanficimagery · 3 years

Text

Lost and then Found pt. I

Imagine being taken by HYDRA. After years with them, they set you loose on someone you haven't seen in a while. Unfortunately for HYDRA, you weren't as susceptible to their mind experiments like they thought.

Words: 8.6K Author's Note: Major trigger warning! There will be a bit of talk about non-consensual pregnancies and some failed pregnancies from said attempts. Also I didn’t want to post this, but this upcoming week is going to be stressful for me and I honestly don’t know how much writing I’ll get done. Please read the bottom note for help on hopefully part 2 of this.

Tag list: @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination @b1sexualtonystark @living-that-best-life @alexnicolaidisss @l0ve-0f-my-life @eliwinchester99 @mimilh @rosesloml @meredeph @lexy9716

The team had been hanging around various floors of the tower when FRIDAY alerted everyone that they were needed in the meeting room ASAP. And when FRIDAY sounded urgent, the team knew it must be serious. Leaving the gym, Steve and Bucky run into Clint and Natasha who had been coming out of the locker rooms.

"Any idea what's going on?" Bucky asks Nat.

She shakes her head. "FRIDAY wouldn't cough up any more information. I contacted Tony, but he just urged me to get my ass moving."

As they wait for the elevator, the doors slide open and they nod to Wanda who's already standing in the back corner. With her arms crossed over her chest, she nods to each of her teammates as they file in. Ever since she had lost Vision, she hadn't been quite herself and everyone knew to give her whatever time she needed.

In the meeting room, the atmosphere is immediately tense. Sam is at the table and as a testament to how serious the situation is he doesn't even crack a joke the second he lays eyes on Bucky. Everyone takes a seat, with the exception of Tony who's still pacing at the front of the room with a tablet in his hand.

"Tony," Steve calls out. "What's going on?"

A moment passes and then Tony stops at the head of the table, looking up. "This." He swipes up on his tablet screen, sending a video hologram to the middle of the table so everyone can see. "This came in about fifteen minutes ago."

The video plays and the team watches on in shocked speechlessness. The video shows a young girl who couldn't have yet been a teenager be strapped down to a gurney and injected with several different vials. They listen as the poor girl screams and thrashes, and sobs about burning on the inside.

The video cuts out before popping up again and shows the same girl, a little older this time, and having a mouth piece shoved into her small mouth before a contraption is lowered around her head. Eyes dart to Bucky and no one says a word as his metal arm whirs when he watches the young girl go through something very similar to what he went through. As she screams, the video cuts out again yet again.

Everyone had been so focused on Bucky's reaction, that no one paid any attention to Wanda as her eyes widened when the video came back for a third round. The girl on screen is definitely older now, her baby fat has all but vanished, and she looks defeated. Her hair hangs in limp strands around her face and there's a collar around her neck that Wanda knows gives off one hell of a shock to the person wearing it when they disobeyed orders. An older male walks into view and the girl cowers away. She winces, her hands flying up to the collar around her neck. "Begin," a voice then sounds. The male lunges for the small female and she tries her best to fend off his blows, but she ends up beaten and bloodied within thirty seconds. At the end of the fight the man is given instructions and then he walks over to the girl, kneeling down and biting her around the wrist. She screams, the man takes a bullet to the back of the head, and the video cuts out.

This time when the video comes back, the girl looks a little more steadier on her feet and less beaten down. She looks ready for a fight. Towards the end of the clip she has bloodied, pointed fingertips. She's shoved back into a chair and that's when her emotionless mask drops, begging to not be wiped. She screams as they start the procedure and then by the end of it there are no more tears. There's just an emotionless female awaiting orders as the video cuts out.

Finally the last clip shows her fighting like she's been doing it for years, taking down one attacker after the other until she's the last one left standing. There's a sharp whistle and the girl stands at attention, and the video zooms in on her stoic expression before cutting out altogether.

"Who sent this, Tony?" Steve readily asks.

"Don't know. I have FRIDAY chasing an IP address that just keeps pinging in every part of the world."

"Do we even know who she is?" Natasha asks. "And what the whole point of this video was?"

"No. Not a cl-"

"Her name is Y/N." Everyone looks to Wanda who can't take her gaze off her hands in her lap. "She was already there with HYDRA when Pietro and I showed up so long ago."

"Willingly?" Clint wonders.

Wanda shakes her head. "When we had gotten there, she had just turned nineteen. She was already stronger than the average human, but we never truly saw what she could do. She was different." She finally looks up, expression sad. "HYDRA was not all that we thought it would be, but by then there was no turning back. We'd seen Y/N around base, but she was always so stoic and never spoke to anyone. But when we had one on one time with her and the guards would leave us under her care, it was like a switch had flipped within her. She was so much lighter and she spoke to us like we had been friends since we were children."

"Why didn't we find her the first time we met you and your brother?" Tony then asks.

"She had been gone for weeks by then. They told us she was killed on a mission they sent her on, and that me and Pietro were going to be the new fists of HYDRA."

"The last video was stamped a week ago," Bucky says. "HYDRA lied."

Sam huffs. "Of course they did."

"They must have seen you, your brother, and Y/N getting friendly. They couldn't have their best weapons socializing and turning against them," Bucky says.

Clint sighs. "So what's the plan?"

"We get her back," Wanda says, leaving no room for Tony or Steve to say otherwise. "She was forcefully taken, unlike Pietro and I. She does not belong with them."

"It's been years, Wanda," Natasha says softly. "She might not be the same girl you knew."

"But what if she is? She is the only family I have left."

For a long moment no one says anything, so Tony takes it upon himself. "Then we look for her, but you're responsible for getting through to her. She'll only know you, not us."

"Fine."

Steve and Tony talk a bit more about being prepared for when FRIDAY tracks down their target, and then everyone is being dismissed.

Wanda takes a moment, letting everyone get up and walk out first, when Clint walks up behind her chair. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he leans down some to say, "Y/N is not your only family, kid. We're your family too." Wanda's heart cracks just a little and she reaches up to cover Clint's hand with her own to let him know she understands. "Just keep that in mind in case we don't find Y/N or she's no longer who she used to be."

Wanda gulps and then nods. "I will."

Working for HYDRA has been absolute hell. Ever since you had been taken as a little girl you were hell-bent on getting out of there which meant doing anything and everything to be in their good graces. Obviously you didn't learn to do so until you were sixteen and had most of your emotions under control.

They experimented and tortured and even tried their mind wipes like they did on their beloved Winter Soldier, but surprisingly your mind was never empty like they hoped to be. Of course, though, you kept that little detail to yourself wipe after wipe. But after everything that went on while you were in their grasp and after whatever they turned you into, you realized you couldn't quite leave and turn yourself loose on the public while you had no control over what you could do.

So you stayed and obeyed like a good little soldier, and attempted to train their new little puppets. Only being left alone with Wanda and Pietro became the one thing you started looking forward to up until they told you the twins didn't survive one of the trials. You had been heartbroken and devastated, but you couldn't let them see. So you nodded, let them move you to another facility and began anew.

You lost yourself within HYDRA, honing your skills and becoming someone even the other soldiers started to become wary of. The mind wipes became less and less the more obedient you became, but then they had a new mission for you- a mission which made your loathing for them hit an all time high.

You've been sitting in solitary for weeks now, biding your time until you could break free and get the hell out of dodge. All morning you've been antsy and it only becomes worse when you can feel the tension mounting all around you.

The door opens and you immediately snap to attention, but the guard that comes in does not have a lunch tray in his hands. Instead, he has a uniform which he readily tosses at you. "Get dressed. You've got a mission."

You quietly snarl at the guard after catching your suit and his hand immediately goes to the electrical prod at his side. "Careful," you drawl. "You wouldn't want your superiors to find out you injured their most prized possession."

His right eye twitches and he lets his hand fall limp. "The clock's ticking on your life, bitch, and when it's up I'll happily put you down."

"We'll just see about that."

The guard turns around and stomps away so he's standing just outside your door, and you hurriedly strip to get dressed in the apparent new uniform. The material for the pants are thin and fit like a glove, but you've worn these before and you know they're impenetrable to blades. Your boots are standard issued, but the long sleeve shirt- the shirt gives you pause because of the padding that's been added to it.

Once you're dressed and your hair has been tied up, you march up behind the soldier and readily clasp your hands behind your back to await orders.

Emotionless mask in place, you're led out and about the base. Everyone seems to be in a tizzy and the smell of gunpowder and blood is thick in the air. You can hear the gunshots and shouting from behind closed doors several rooms away, and you're not surprised that that's exactly where you're led.

The General meets you outside one room in particular and he dismisses your guard with a wave of his hand. You bite your tongue to keep from smiling at the fact the guard grumbles at being dismissed so easily.

"Ah my dear Y/N," the General coos. "Come. We've got several mice trapped and we need you to rid us of them once and for all." You blankly blink at him, nodding once to let him know you understand your mission.

The second he turns around to enter the code for the room, your shoulders drop just a bit and you attempt to put yourself in the mindset of fighting once again. The door slides open and you follow like an obedient little soldier, only to stop short at the sight of the assembled heroes standing on the opposite end of the room. One in particular stands out, her scent hitting you like a freight train and you have to try your hardest not to show an inkling of knowledge about who she is.

You stand next to, but an inch or so behind, the General's left side with your hands still clasped behind your back and feet shoulder width apart as you stare straight ahead. You're trying your damnedest to focus on the red, white, and blue shield Captain America is holding out before him, and not show any recognition for Wanda who is desperately calling out to you in hopes of recognizing her.

You block out what the General is saying, no doubt gloating about your skills, and zone back in just as he gives what he thinks is a command you're programmed to obey. With your right foot planted, you take a step back with a left and flick your wrists out at your sides so claws unsheathe themselves. You can hear several heartbeats pick up speed and you finally meet Wanda's gaze. She seems to still as you offer her the faintest of grins and send her a wink, only to twist on your right foot a moment later and send your clawed left hand into the throat of the General.

The Avengers all tense and prepare for a battle as the General gurgles on his own blood, and you lean in close to his ear so you can say, "Your first mistake was taking me from my family when I was just a little girl." He tries to pull your hand from his throat, but he is no match for your strength. Growling, you squeeze your hand that's still embedded in his throat. "And your last mistake was reintroducing me to Wanda, and giving me hope." Just as the alarms start to blare, you rip the General's throat out and let his limp body fall.

"Y/N?"

You glance up, smirking at Wanda and her wide-eyed expression. "Hello, little Maximoff." You flick your hand free of some of the blood and then smile at her companions. "Avengers." You nod at them in greeting.

"You remember."

You blink at her, not bothering to answer the obvious. Instead, you can hear walkie talkies going haywire outside the room and you turn around to glance up at the windows where you know others are watching. You mockingly wave at them with your bloodied hand and start pacing in the middle of the room, putting Wanda and the Avengers at your back. Looking up at the window, you let your smirk drop into a scowl. "You think you can take me from my family, torture and brainwash me, and then sic me on the only other family I've ever known?" You yell, seething. Cracking your neck, you let your rage take over and feel the bones shift uncomfortably in your face. Even your eyes burn and you know they're flaring an electric blue. "You're fools for thinking you could control me."

You feel a soft pressure on your wrist and immediately turn to growl at the person who dares touch you, but you lower your head in shame when you see it's just Wanda. She softly gasps and you try to turn away. "What did they do to you?" She asks as she gently grasps you by the chin to make you face her once more.

"What they do best?" You mumble, sharp teeth catching on your bottom lip. "They turned me into a monster."

Wanda's voice catches in her throat, but before she can say anything you're facing the door and stepping in front of her to shield her. Seven soldiers rush in, electrical prods gripped tight in hand.

"Why don't they have any guns?" You hear one of the Avengers ask.

"They must want her alive," someone else answers.

"If you don't stand down, we're going to have to resort to drastic measures," one HYDRA agent says.

"Then resort to them," you growl, "because now that I know Wanda is alive you're gonna have to kill one of us just to separate us again."

Wanda steps up next to you then, hands slowly rotating at the wrists as red energy floats around them. "And trust me, I am not so easily killed."

You can sense the Avengers all stepping into line behind you, but you don't bother looking at them. Instead, you focus on the threat in front of you and the fact they have more people gathering outside once the first line falls. Then from one second to the next, there's a silent command that sends the HYDRA agents into fight mode.

You break off from Wanda, drawing a few agents towards you. Your fighting skills come into play and it's easy for you to either block or withstand the shock of the electrical prods. However, the agents are not so lucky since you're going in for the kill. If you're not kicking in knees and snapping necks, your claws and teeth are digging into throats and ripping out flesh. You're roaring and snarling, and scaring most of the agents you come into contact with, but there are a select few which are all too happy to disobey orders and engage you in physical combat.

You take quite a few hits to the face and sides, and for a moment you're worried, but you have to push through and worry later.

You're not sure how long the fight lasts, but all you know is hat the last agent you claw until he's gurgling on his own blood is the last one to go down. Panting and heaving, electric blue eyes scan the room. All the Avengers are still standing, most of them don't even look like they participated in the fight, but all are watching you with wary eyes.

Wanda steps in your direction and you growl, but then stop the moment her hands go up to show you she means no harm. "It's over," she tells you, her accent heavy and reminding you of so long ago when you first took her under your wing. "If you want to leave, you need to calm down. My team has no idea who you are and you being so hostile makes them nervous."

"Team?" The word rumbles through your throat as your gaze jumps from person to person. "But where's Pietro?"

When your gaze lands back on Wanda, she's smiling softly. But that smile soon wobbles as she shakes her head. "He died a while back. I'm sorry."

You shake your head as you take a step back and Wanda quickly closes the distance between the two of you. She wraps her arms around until you lower your head to her shoulder and you sniffle quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. He died a hero," she says. "We saw the error of our ways and the Avengers took us in." You finally allow yourself to wrap your arms around her, breathing her in and calming your rage. When you feel yourself sag against her, you finally pick up your head and smile as she runs a finger down the bridge of your nose. "There you are."

"M'sorry."

"For?"

"For you having to see me that way. I didn't even know you were alive and then they just told me to dress and take care of a mice problem they had. I didn't know it was the Avengers."

"It's okay," Wanda assures you. "You did the right thing."

"Um, I hate to break up this crazy reunion, but we need to go."

You glance at the man with wings and nod. "That would be a good idea. They'll send more soldiers soon."

Captain America glances at Wanda. "Get her to the quinjet. We're gonna do a sweep of the base before bringing it down."

Wanda gives him a nod and then she's urging you to follow her. You follow her through the winding hallways and an elevator ride up to the surface, and you huff a quiet laugh when you see the destruction left in the Avengers' wake. Off in the distance there's a jet and Wanda wastes no time in leading you up the ramp, and onto a seat.

"Just wait right here." She rushes towards a door and you're surprised a small bathroom sits behind it. She grabs what appears to be a hand towel from inside and then walks over behind the cockpit of the jet, grabbing a bottle of water from inside a bench seat. Then walking back over to you, she gestures to your face. "You've got a lot of blood."

"Oh." You take the towel and water, and quickly wet the towel to start wiping off your face and hands. There's nothing you can do for your clothes, so you leave them be.

As you wait for the others to return, you fidget in your seat and exhale softly as you catch Wanda's gaze. "What made you guys hit this specific base?" You wonder. "They're usually very careful about the comings and goings so they didn't attract the wrath of the Winter Soldier."

Wanda smiles and takes a seat across from you. "Bucky has been going on a world tour of tearing down HYDRA bases in his free time. We think HYDRA got tired of it and wanted to lure us into a trap, so they sent us a video of you."

You frown. "Why me? And what video?"

"They wanted me to rush in and not be at one hundred percent, hoping I'd make a mistake," she says. "Bucky and Natasha believe HYDRA saw us getting close, so they separated us and told us the other had died so we'd follow them faithfully. And when they sent that video, I was stunned. I wanted to rush in and bring you home, but the team made me take a beat." Having stood up halfway through her explanation, Wanda had retrieved a tablet and tapped away at it. Handing it to you, you find a paused video on screen.

Pressing play, you watch yourself be tortured and experimented on, and taught to kill. You wrinkle your nose at how young you were and how sickly you were at one point until they found a method that took and made you what you currently are. You're so caught up in the video that you aren't paying attention to your surroundings and are surprised to see the Avengers walking up the ramp.

"Done already?" Wanda asks.

"All we have to do is detonate once we're up in the air."

Wanda exhales in relief and you meet the gaze of several Avengers who don't know what to think of you after seeing you rip through the HYDRA soldiers like it was nothing. To break the ice, you say the first thing that pops into your mind. "So that was fun."

Iron Man snorts as he walks on by, heading straight for the cockpit. "Great. Another murder-happy supersoldier."

"Uhh, I'm not a supersoldier," you say. The rest of the team glances at you and you go on to explain. "On the video, you all saw the man bite me. Right?" There are various forms of acknowledgement. "Well that's what turned me into what I am. A bite."

"A bite from what?" Black Widow wonders.

You shrug. "The best I can come up with is a werewolf."

Hawkeye snorts, but at your no nonsense expression he sobers up. "Oh. Uh, those exist?"

"I'm assuming so," you say. "I get extra rage-y during a full moon, so I'll probably have to be chained up when the next one comes around." Wanda looks startled at your confession, but you flash her a small grin. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now."

Everyone takes a moment before either taking a seat or steadying themselves, and then there's lift off. The quinjet rises higher and higher until it hovers mid-air. Captain America walks towards the cock-pit and after giving the all-clear you can hear a distant boom and concrete caving inward.

"Well that's another base down," Captain America says.

Exhaling in relief, you allow your eyes to close and relish the feeling of being free. Your moment of peace, however, is short lived when you feel eyes on you. Opening them, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are sitting across from you now. Wanda has taken the seat next to you and you smile as she lays her head on your shoulder.

"I know you've been through a lot, but we have some things we'd like to discuss," the good Captain says.

You nod. "Ask away."

"They wiped you over and over," the Winter Soldier says matter of factly. "Why didn't it take?"

"I honestly have no idea," you admit. "The first time, it took. I didn't know who I was or where I was."

"How did you break out of it?"

"Something one of the doctors said triggered a memory from when I was younger and it just snowballed from there. I started remembering, but a few months after that I was wiped again. The second time didn't take quite so well, but I still forgot. I just knew there was something missing and slowly but surely it started coming back," you say. "But then after I was bitten, the mind wipes completely stopped working. It hurt like hell and I learned to fake it until I could find a way out of there."

"We didn't find much on you," the Winter Soldier says. "Their computers were already self-destructing, but we did manage to find a book where they wrote down your trigger words. You don't mind if we say them to make sure you're telling the truth?"

Wanda's head immediately snaps up, no doubt ready to tell them to back off, and you grin at her protectiveness. "It's fine." She then turns to look at you in shock and you wave her off. "Honestly, it's fine. They don't work. I should seriously win an Oscar for best actress."

Hawkeye and the Black Widow stand on either side of Captain America and the Winter Soldier, and he slowly reads the words aloud after opening the book. "Blue. Full moon. Bitten. Beta. Wolf. Red."

Everyone seems to hold their breath and the corner of your lips quirk into a grin. "Still doubting me?"

Captain America huffs. "That's unbelievable."

"You've fought aliens and Asgardian princes, Captain. My broken mind should be the least unbelievable thing."

"Steve. My name's Steve," he says. "And you're not broken." Your grin falters as you blink at him in surprise. "And this is Bucky." The Winter Soldier nods at you and you return the sentiment.

"Clint," Hawkeye says.

"Natasha."

"Sam."

"And I'm Tony Stark, but I'm sure you knew that."

"Uh, sure," you slowly muse. When he squawks and turns around his seat, you huff a small laugh. "Of course I know who you are. I know who you all are thanks to HYDRA and their obsession with you. I just wasn't privy to the fact that Wanda was part of the team until now."

They take your word for it and now that with the knowledge that the trigger words do nothing to you, it seems to bring some ease to the group and everyone finally settles in. According to Wanda the jet ride is going to take a bit so you might as well make yourself comfortable.

About twenty minutes into the ride, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You chalk it up to the fact the seats aren't really that comfortable to begin with, but when you move to stretch your back a little you feel a pang just to the right side of your abdomen. The pain causes you to still and when it lingers you close your eyes to concentrate on your hearing. Unfortunately, the roar of the jet's engines prevents you from hearing anything.

You abruptly stand up which causes every gaze to snap to you, but you pay them no mind. You feel a cramp suddenly take hold on your lower abdomen and you bend at the waist, breathing through it.

"Y/N?" Wanda calls out.

"Something's wrong." With those two words, you feel the tension in the jet amp up. Your hand goes to your side, rubbing there and then following towards the cramp in your lower abdomen. "Something's really wrong."

"What's going on?" She asks.

You whirl around, eyes burning and you don't even care that they're flaring blue at your friend. "Your magic. Can you feel things with it? Or people. Anything?" You ask in a rush.

"I- I don't know what you-"

"Can you feel someone's conscious or whatever! I need- I just-"

"Okay. Okay," she slowly stands up. "I can. Now tell me what's wrong."

You immediately grab her right hand and set it against your abdomen. "Tell me if you can feel anything." Your eyes burn again, this time with unshed tears. "I can't listen for a heartbeat over the jet's engine."

As your words sink in, Wanda's eyes widen. "You're pregnant."

"Holy shit," you hear someone mutter behind you.

"It hurts." You finally allow the tears to fall. "It's not supposed to hurt."

"How- how far along?"

"Three and a half months. Please, Wanda, I can't-"

Without further prompting, Wanda's eyes glow red. You glance down and see her hand glow red as well, her magic then slowly encircling your abdomen. After what feels like an eternity, she slowly smiles. "There it is." Her gaze darts up to you and the red fades away. "I can feel him. Or her."

You choke back a sob, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle it. Wanda immediately embraces you and you sink into the comfort she's offering you. Then after a moment there's a hand on your shoulder that doesn't belong to Wanda and you lift your head up to see Sam.

"Hey girl, mind if I check you out? You fought awfully hard back at the base and given your condition I'd be more at ease if I knew everything was good."

Your brow furrows. "You're a doctor?"

"No, but I've got some training bandaging people up for the real docs. The most I can do for you right now is check for tender spots so I can report back to the doctor at the compound and insert an IV."

You look to Wanda for her opinion and she nods to let you know it's okay. Then looking back at Sam, you nod. "Okay."

Clint immediately pulls down a cot from where it was folded against the quinjet wall and Sam gestures for you to lay down. He instructs you to lift your shirt and you do so, lifting it until it's bunched beneath your bust. "Okay so I already see some bruising."

His fingertips touch the side of your abdomen and you automatically growl. He freezes and you wince. "Sorry. Instincts."

He chuckles. "It's okay. Given what you apparently are and the circumstances, that's to be expected. Am I good to proceed?"

"Yeah." You inhale shakily. "You're good."

Sam continues his brief examination, pressing here and there around your abdomen for any tender spots. You wince at one particular push and he quietly apologizes. When he's done, he leans back. "You're definitely gonna have to be checked out as soon as we get to the compound."

"Understood."

"But I'd like to get an IV started if that's okay. With you being pregnant and under HYDRA's care, I rather get some fluids in you that I know haven't been tampered with."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine."

You sit up and Wanda walks over to sit next to you on the cot, taking your hand between both of hers to offer you some semblance of comfort. Steve gets up to go speak with Tony and you ignore the quiet conversation they're obviously having about you. You can feel various stares on you, but you keep your gaze dead ahead and manage to keep from fidgeting or lashing out.

You don't know when, but you end up dozing off against Wanda. Then the next time you're conscious, you're being gently shaken awake and you watch as everyone starts to disembark the jet.

"We're home," Wanda murmurs. "Are you ready for this?"

"Yeah."

Slightly stretching, you're apprehensive about any sort of pain flaring but it never comes. You're thankful for it and then stand up to walk side-by-side with Wanda. Arm hooked through hers, you follow her off the jet and into the sleekest building you've ever laid eyes on. Sam is waiting for you, alongside a woman who smiles kindly at you. She introduces herself as Doctor Cho and you readily follow after her.

The labs make you apprehensive, but Wanda and Sam assure you everything is fine. Doctor Cho has you change into an unflattering medical gown and she talks through everything right before she does it so you're not caught off guard. All in all, being poked and prodded by this woman is a lot more pleasant than when HYDRA's doctors did it.

After a while, Doctor Cho comes back with a tablet in hand. You can see she wants to ask for privacy, but you immediately let her know that you're okay with Wanda and Sam hearing everything. Since you're staying wherever Wanda is, it's only fair the others know what's going on with you so there are no secrets.

Smiling, Doctor Cho glances at the tablet before looking up at you. "So everything seems to be completely normal," she says. Sam and Wanda exhale in relief. "Sam mentioned some bruising around your abdomen when he first walked in, but there is no sign of any bruising whatsoever. You and the baby seem one hundred percent healthy given everything you've through."

"I heal fast," you quietly admit. "I'm not sure why it took so long for me to feel the pain, but I panicked because of the baby and I wasn't thinking straight back on the jet."

"As an expecting mother, it's normal to panic. I had first hand experience with Mr. Stark's wife a few years back. Panicking is normal, but you just have to remember to breathe and take it one step at a time."

"Easier said than done," you mumble.

Doctor Cho chuckles. "Well for the next few weeks, I want you to take it easy. I'm not putting you on bed rest because of your accelerated healing, but I don't want you doing any strenuous activity."

"Don't worry," Wanda muses. "I'll make sure her butt is planted on the sofa at all times."

"Well okay then," Doctor Cho says. "I have some clothes for you if you want so you don't have to get back into that suit."

"I'd like that. Thank you."

"And if you're up for it, I'd like to see you again next week so we can make sure you and baby are still heading on the right track. I'll even order in some prenatal vitamins and a few others that you're lacking."

You nod. "Okay. That sounds good."

Reconnecting with Wanda had been easy. You were happy that she and Pietro got away from HYDRA when they did, even if Pietro didn't get to enjoy his freedom, and she was sad that you had been under HYDRA's thumb this entire time. But a little wine (for Wanda) and a lot of grape juice (for you), and the two of you were chatting like you hadn't missed any time at all.

After that, settling in at the Avengers' compound was a lot easier than you anticipated. Everyone, with the exception of Tony and Clint, lived just behind the compound in a new building that had been erected not too long ago and it was a lot more homely than you were expecting. You had moved in with Wanda for the meantime, keeping to her quarters so as to not step on any toes. But on the rare chance you decided to stretch your legs, you were surprised that the others would cordially start a conversation with you to see how you were doing.

Then after several visits with Doctor Cho where she continued to tell you that you and baby were doing extremely well, Wanda decided to have a family dinner in celebration.

"So who's all going to be here again?" You ask, already looking through the refrigerator.

"Just the usual," Wanda tells you. "I didn't want Clint and Tony to have to drag their families out here, but they do check in every now and then. They're happy you're settling in."

You snort, shutting the refrigerator door and standing straight. "Are you sure that's it and it's not because I haven't ravaged anyone to death?"

"Y/N.."

"I'm only joking." You grin. "Now can you please contact the others and tell them to hurry up? I'm starving!"

Grinning, Wanda takes her phone in hand and starts tapping away. She chuckles at something on her screen a few moments later, but before you can ask what's so funny you hear several individuals approaching. The aroma of the food hits you next and your mouth immediately starts watering. Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Sam walk in- each and every one of them carrying various bags of takeout.

"Hey Y/N, think you got a little drool there," Sam says, gesturing to the corner of his mouth.

And without missing a beat, you say, "Not only am I a pregnant woman, Samuel, but I'm a pregnant wolf. I will eat you if you don't stop teasing me."

Sam gasps in offence as everyone else chuckles, and then they're setting the food down on the table to start unloading it as Wanda asks you to help her with utensils and drinks. But the second you turn back towards the table and see all the food laid out, you pause and take it all in. And then promptly burst into tears.

Everyone seems startled, but you're quick to get yourself under control. Sniffling and then wiping the tears away, you say, "I'm sorry. It's just that there's so much food!"

Steve is the first to chuckle. "You're crying because there's a lot of food?"

"Well yeah. You brought all this food and you're not expecting anything from me." Steve's smile instantly vanishes. "HYDRA would offer me nice things, but it always came at a price."

Sam whistles lowly. "Well that just took a turn for the depressing." A beat passes and then, "Come on, little momma. Come grab some grub."

Wanda smiles kindly at you and you finish making your way to the table. You end up with her at your side and Bucky across from you, and a table full of food laid out in front of you. Then the second Natasha reaches for pan fried dumplings, you reach for one of the largest burgers you've ever seen and a whole tray of fries. You groan at the first taste and proceed to finish it off in five more bites. You eat some fries and then stare at the remaining burgers with longing.

"Go ahead," Natasha tells you. "We have more than enough."

You sheepishly grin in her direction and grab another hamburger, devouring it without a care in the world.

But then when you eye the sushi and reach for it, you gasp when the chopsticks in Bucky's hand whack the back of your hand. "No. Raw fish is bad for pregnant women."

A growl unconsciously slips free and the whole table freezes. But then the situation you're in sinks in and you roll your eyes as you pull your hand back into your lap. "Then just say so, Barnes. Don't whack me. I'm not a damn dog." You're scowling at him, but then your words sink in when you see the corner of his lips twitch. "Oh shut up."

The whole table laughs and you shake your head, grinning as you then reach for a container of Chinese noodles that smell absolutely divine.

Later, stuffed full and laying across a sofa, the whole lot of you are relaxing as the TV plays some random TV show Sam had put on. A commercial comes on for pampers and you groan. "I am not looking forward to diaper duty."

Wanda chuckles, but it's Natasha who asks, "So you plan on keeping the baby?" You startle at the question, glancing over at her. "I mean everyone just kind of figured you wouldn't want to given the circumstances of when and where you became pregnant, so-"

"No, I get it," you tell her. "When HYDRA first told me the plan of birthing them a soldier, I kind of lost it. I pretty much went feral at the idea of forcefully having a baby." Gulping, you quickly sit up to explain all that went down. "They wanted to breed me," you sneer, "and they had to sedate me for their chosen soldier to just enter the same room." Immediately your nose tingles, everyone's anger wafting off of them in waves. "Unfortunately for them, they forgot to take into account that my metabolism burned through everything ten times faster than a normal human and I came to just as my pants were being unbuttoned. The guy barely had time to smirk before I ripped his throat out. With my teeth."

The men all stare at you in various stages of shock, but Wanda and Natasha both smirk. "Atta girl," the redheaded assassin muses.

"Killing their top candidate was a big upset, so they attempted to wipe me again," you say with a shrug. "But when the higher-ups got wind of an unscheduled wipe, they came down to see what that was all about. Needless to say, they were not impressed with their Doc's breeding tactics. Doc One took a bullet between the eyes and they brought in Doc Two who was a big fan of artificial insemination." Everyone winces. "Pregnancies one and two didn't stick, so they tried pregnancy three with a sample they had in the freezer. I don't know who the father is, but HYDRA was really ecstatic when month three came along and the two of us were still in good health."

"And you're okay with keeping this baby?" Wanda softly asks.

"I kind of have to be. This baby," you say while gently touching your abdomen, "is half me and half someone else who I'm pretty sure is enhanced. Even if I thought adoption was an option, I don't think I could live with myself knowing a piece of me was somewhere out there."

Everyone takes a moment after your story sinks in, thinking about all that you've been while in HYDRA's control. Afterwards, Steve clears his throat. "So before anyone goes overboard with baby stuff, we're gonna have to put you in your own apartment." He smiles when he notices he catches you off guard with that. "No need to overflow Wanda's apartment with baby things when we have plenty of room to spread out still."

"A-Are you sure?" You ask. "I was ready to start looking elsewhere for a place to live, but-"

"No. HYDRA will be on the lookout for you and that baby," Wanda says. "You're staying here where they won't dare to infiltrate."

You glance at each present Avenger, taking in their pleasant expressions and sniffing them out for any hints of deceit. Finding none, you allow yourself to relax and grin. "Okay then. We'll stay here."

Cohabitating with the Avengers is nothing like you expected. Everyone's guard is down while at home and everyone likes spending time together in the communal spaces when there's not a mission for them to be worrying about. Sam especially gets a kick out of seeing how your appetite holds up against the two supersoldiers and he's impressed that you can eat the same amount or sometimes more.

And when the full moon is less than a week away, it's not just you who's worried about it.

Tony flies in when they notice you're quick to anger and they quickly clean out the hulk proof room that hasn't been used in quite some time. Steve and Wanda take charge, asking what would make you most comfortable, and you admit that anything with your scent on it will do. But what catches everyone off guard is that you sheepishly request something with their scent on it as well and you have to embarrassingly admit that it's a werewolf thing. With you spending so much time with them, you've kind of latched on and your wolf considers them yours.

Everyone is game to get you whatever you need and within half an hour they've got your bed set up in the room, and blankets and pillows from those you'd been living with these past couple of weeks. Everyone takes care to not annoy you the couple days leading up to the full moon, and then you're encouraged to go ahead and settle in the room the day you snarl at Tony for making a puppy joke.

Wanda sits in an armchair in the room as you sit against your headboard, talking about anything and everything as you practice some of Bruce's meditation tips. The door to the room is open for now, and every now and then you can hear someone pass by to quietly check in.

No one needs to tell you when the moon's reached its apex because you can feel the change within you. Your breathing becomes a little heavier and your fidgeting is no doubt more apparent. Sweat starts to bead along your hairline and you curl your fingers inward so as to not shred any of your bedding when you feel your claws suddenly elongate.

"Y/N..?"

"Wanda." You inhale deeply and slowly release it. "I think it's time you go."

You hear the armchair creak under Wanda's weight. "What? I can-"

"Go." You exhale deeply once more, slowly glancing up and eyes burning blue. "You need to go."

A growl slips free and then Steve's immediately in the doorway. "Wanda, come on."

Your gaze stays glued to Wanda as she cautiously stands and she smartly walks backwards to the door rather than giving you her back. And the second the door slides shut, you're leaping out of bed and pacing the entirety of the room. Your agitation ends up getting the best of you and you end up ripping your shirt off, thankful that you had been talked into wearing a sports bra underneath.

The walls are opaque, but the second a voice comes over an intercom you're whirling around to glare at the exact spot where everyone is congregated around screens and keeping watch over you. "Y/N, you need to calm down. Your heartbeat is way too fast."

You snarl and a fist flies towards the wall. There's a loud thump, but they put you in a hulk-proof room for a reason. No matter how much strength you have, you won't make a single crack in the glass.

As you pace all around the room, you growl and roar out your agitation.

Fortunately for you, you have a fair amount of control and you never resort to harming yourself. You do, however, tire of pacing and your bed looks all too welcoming. So once you deem it safe enough to let your guard down, you crawl into bed and surround yourself with the various pillows and blankets of your pack.

The following morning when you wake up, Doctor Cho whisks you away for an evaluation to make sure the full moon didn't affect the baby. And once you're given the all clear, Wanda and Sam lure you into the kitchen with a promise of a hearty breakfast.

You're more tired than usual, but you manage to perch on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, setting your elbow on the island top and setting your chin in the palm of your hand. Wanda starts to slice up some avocados when you notice there's an itch under your skin that's telling you you need to do something, but you aren't sure what. The feeling amps up as the time ticks on by, but before you can get up and start pacing in agitation there's an arm draping around your shoulders.

The familiar scent of Steve overwhelms you and you feel yourself automatically lean towards him. He chuckles. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I wanna snuggle the hell out of you," you mumble. Leaning away from him, you turn on your stool and part your knees, pulling Steve as close to you as possible. "Seriously, just hug me. I need to scent everyone again."

Sam snorts from his spot at the stove and Steve happily obliges you. Your arms wrap around his waist and you lay the side of your face against Steve's chest, a happy rumble slipping free as Steve embraces you back. "I don't know why you're laughing, Wilson. I'm cuddling all of you."

After about five minutes, you let Steve go and you readily drag Wanda into his vacant spot. She laughs, but hugs you back the moment your arms go around her. You shove your face into the side of her neck and you can't resist rubbing your cheek along her shoulders.

Sam ends up getting the same exact treatment right before breakfast is served up and since Natasha isn't really a hugger, she does sit next to you and allows you to at least drape one of your legs over hers underneath the table.

Afterwards, instead of heading back towards the apartment you share with Wanda, you eye Bucky who's sitting on the couch with a book in his right hand. And though he's been perfectly cordial with you since you've been brought in, you knew better than to just approach him out of the blue like you can with Wanda, Sam, and Steve.

Steve chuckles as he sees your hesitance, but he offers you no help in broaching the cuddling topic with his best friend. However, just as you enter Bucky's peripheral, he readily lifts his left arm that had been resting on the armrest. You sigh in relief and crawl in Bucky's lap, sitting sideways and laying your head on his shoulder. His metal arm curls around your back and his hand which he's holding the book settles down atop your knees.

You soak in Bucky's warmth and scent, and before you know it your eyelids get heavier and heavier.

The click of a phone's camera sounds and Bucky glances up to see Wanda pointing her phone at him. "What?" She feigns innocence. "It's adorable."

"She's exhausted," he says. "I'd fall asleep anywhere too if I had to go through what she did."

"I can take her if you want," Wanda says. "Float her on back to our apartment."

"No. It's fine," he's quick to assure her. "I wasn't planning on moving anytime soon anyway."

Wanda nods, hiding her grin as she walks towards the elevator where Steve and Sam are already waiting. Getting in, all three individuals smirk at Bucky cradling a sleeping pregnant werewolf in his lap.

"If she names that pup after Barnes, I'm throwing hands," Sam says.

Wanda laughs. "I don't think she's thinking about naming her child after a man she's only known for a couple of weeks, Sam."

"Well some would think that one would not sleep in the lap of someone they've only known for a couple of weeks, but here we are," Steve then says. "Unless it's a werewolf thing."

Wanda, Steve, and Sam take a moment to think about it before Sam says, "I got twenty that says those two end up hooking up before the baby bump makes itself known."

"What? No way." Wanda shakes her head. "I have twenty that says she's just extra cuddly because she's hormonal and just came down from the full moon."

"Guys," Steve admonishes them. A moment later, he grins. "Twenty says a real attraction grows and those two end up together."

"You're on, Rogers."

Author's Note: So you guys wanna give me baby name suggestions? And gender suggestions?

#avengers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel gen fic x reader #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #marvel #avengers

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yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

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•Don't Say His Name•

Summary: This is a part two to Forget That Extra! There will at the very least be a third part, since this one ends unresolved and I have SO MUCH of the story left in my brain.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (both Bakugo and Reader are aged up to 18+)

Warnings: Rough sex, degredation, impact play, ddlg terms, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, a sprinkling of knife play, fingering, ruined orgasm, Dom Bakugo, Brat/masochist reader, tiny bit of angst.

Word Count: 6,115

Part One • Part Three

A/N: As far as tagging goes, I tagged those that commented on part one, and those that liked the post about this part. If you would like added/removed just let me know!

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You walk down the hallway with all the confidence in the world. "You're my woman now." He had said. Katsuki Bakugo's woman. That's you. Walking through his agency covered in bruises he had left, and only he could see. It makes your insides twist and spark with excitement, the idea of belonging to that explosive hero.

You're on your way to his office now, coffee in hand as you try to make an effort at being an actual partner instead of just his play thing. You made sure to get the right kind of milk and sugar, and extra caramel of course. The past few weeks have been all about learning things like that, the little details about each other that exists outside the bedroom or a stuffy closet.

Just as you make the final turn to Katsuki's office, you see a wild flash of green hair and hear an excited voice say your name. A bright smile spreads across Deku's boyish face, cheeks all pink and freckled. He's all dressed up in his hero costume as he bounces towards you before speaking again.

"Hey! On a coffee run for the boss man?" He jokes, nodding at the hot drinks in your hands.

The boss man, right, he's your boss. He should definitely not have been in your guts less than twelve hours ago, and you definitely shouldn't have his teeth marks on your body.

"Oh yeah, either gotta keep him caffeinated or pick up pieces of exploded furniture, and I much prefer the coffee runs to clean up duty." You laugh with him, both of you knowing Bakugo's temperament far too well.

As you laugh your shoulders move a little too much and the strap of your bag falls off, catching on your elbow and nearly jostling the coffee to the point of falling out of the drink carrier.

Deku's reflexes are like lightning as always, before you can object he's taken the coffee as you slip the strap back onto your shoulder. Your cheeks flush as you mumble a bashful thanks then reach for the coffees.

"No I got it, let me walk with you." He says, "Can't risk dropping the precious cargo."

You both share another chuckle as you anxiously adjust your top, trying to tuck it more securely into your plaid skirt.

"Thanks, Deku, I would've been in for it if I had lost that drink."

You both take off down the hall at a rather lazy pace, sharing some pleasant small talk about your days. You find out that he actually just left Katsuki's office, they were going over some boring publicity stuff for their agencies. As you walk you find yourself laughing a lot, especially at Deku's impression of a very grumpy Katsuki.

You've only met Izuku Midoriya a handful of times, mostly in passing like this. Without fail, he's always kind and charming. He's the kind of person that leaves anyone he meets with warm, vanilla tasting feelings.

"Can I ask you something?" He says with a small voice.

"Of course you can." You say as you come up to the door of Katsuki's office.

"This might be a little out of line, and I completely understand if you wouldn't want to, I just- I was uh- I guess I was w-wondering if you maybe would consider grabbing coffee with me?" He trips and stutters his way through his invitation, and goodness it's so fucking cute.

You're floored honestly, of course you'd love to get coffee with him, it's harmless right? It could be, if you make it clear that you're with Bakugo. That's the problem though, being employed by him means you two can't be public about being together. That shit gets messy fast, so you've been sworn to secrecy.

"You're busy though, so I totally understand if you just can't find the time or if you just don't want to or whatever. I just figure you might like actually having coffee with somebody instead of being sent to get it for them, if that makes any sense… s- sorry… this sounded a lot better in my head." As he talks he fidgets with his hands and shifts his feet a little, emerald eyes searching your face for some form of an answer.

"Deku, I'd love to." You say sweetly before he can open his mouth and fumble through more words.

His shoulders drop and his face relaxes.

"Is six tonight ok? We can just meet here so you don't have to give me your address or go to my place, I know that can be uncomfortable sometimes so I figure meeting at a public place would probably make you feel safer- I guess if we-"

"How about you just text me the address of the coffee place you had in mind?" You say gently, interrupting as politely as you can.

You try to keep your voice down, a creeping feeling snaking up your spine. It feels wrong to be making plans like this right in front of your boyfriend's office, if you can call him that. There hasn't really been a lot of discussion about the exclusivity of the relationship, just that he hated the idea of you belonging to anyone else, and that he hadn't been with anyone else… maybe that talk needs to happen soon.

"Huh? Oh, yeah that's a good idea, I would just need to uh- if I wanted to text you I would need-"

"My number?" You giggle as you pull a sticky note and a pen from your bag.

"Uh, yeah, that would be it." He laughs nervously.

You quickly scribble down your number, your heart climbs to your throat as you offer him the paper.

"I'll trade you." You say, nodding to the coffees before sticking the note on his chest.

An adorable blush spreads across his already rosey cheeks.

"Oh yeah, boss man needs his caffeine." He says as you take them.

Just as you accept the drinks back, the office door opens slowly. The twist of the knob makes your chest tighten.

"Oh, there you are. You were taking so long I thought you'd gotten lost." He says gruffly before taking the drink you hold out for him.

His words bite you a little, but you have to just take it for the sake of appearing uninvolved.

"I thought you were leaving?" He asks Deku with a pointed gaze.

"Oh, Kacchan I was, I just uh-"

"He was helping me, I almost dropped the coffee and he was kind enough to carry them for me." You jump in, trying to defuse the tension building between the men in front of you.

You know bits and pieces of their old rivalry, only those that Bakugo let slip. For the most part they've out grown the school yard beef, but Katsuki is competitive, territorial, possessive. You know that it's grinding his gears knowing Deku was there to help you, which might be a fact you can have some fun with.

"So, six works for you?" You ask Izuku, voice laced with honey.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah six is great, I'll see you then." He says, folding the note with your number before sticking it in his pocket.

"I'll see you then, and thank you for the help." You smile, earning a sweet grin from him as he awkwardly shuffles away.

"Oh of course, it's never a problem! Bye Kacchan, thanks again for the meeting!" He damn near hops off down the hallway before disappearing around the corner.

Slowly, you turn to face your lover, apprehension written all over your face. He just sneers down at you before turning sharply into his office. You stand and watch him stalk to his desk, slightly scared to move.

"Get your ass in here, lock the damn door behind you." He says flatly before taking a sip of coffee.

You do as he says, letting the door close quietly before flipping the lock.

"So, I'm assuming you won't be joining me for dinner?" He says as he relaxes into his large desk chair.

"What? No, we can get dinner, I'm just grabbing coffee with Izuku." You explain, trying to sound nonchalant.

You take a nervous glance around his office, and a fond feeling blooms in your chest. It's organized chaos, as he calls it. The desk is covered in little travel tools and makeshift gadgets. He loves to tinker when he can't focus, he says it gets his mind back to a place where he can. He's talented too, could honestly run a whole side business on his creations alone.

The one time you proposed it he shut it down fast, he said he had enough jobs to do, that he wanted to keep his tinkering from becoming work. It brings the smallest smile to your face, but you're ripped away from your dreamy thoughts by the sound of his rough voice.

"First name basis, I see." He mumbles before taking another sip.

You can't help but roll your eyes. It's difficult to discern if he's genuinely irritated by you meeting Izuku, or if he's just trying to egg you on. Either way, you're going to have some fun with it.

"Well people don't usually call their friends by their hero names, do they?" You question as you walk around his desk so you can lean your backside against the edge.

Katsuki turns his chair to face you, glancing over your body once before finding your eyes. His gaze lingers on the undone buttons at the collar of your black top, revealing what you think is a tasteful amount of decolletage.

You sip your own coffee as he analyzes you, seemingly taking the bait.

"Friends?" He asks quietly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ya know, someone who gets coffee with you instead of sending you on an errand to get some for them?" That was a bold move that will inevitably come back to bite you, but that's exactly what you want.

All of his fine muscles shift and tighten under his well tailored dress shirt as he leans forward in his chair. He places his elbows on his knees, and folds his hands under his chin as he glances up at you through his eyelashes.

A tense moment is spent between you, your chest lights up with nerves just a little bit. You hate it when he's quiet, he's much easier to read when he's mouthy.

"Sounds fun!" He says with far too much enthusiasm as he shoots up from his chair. Before you can reply, he's put his whole body in front of yours. He sets his hands on the desk behind you, efficiently caging you in.

Just like that, the air is hot and thick between you. He looks down his nose at you, waiting for you to answer. His eyes scream "try me" and it makes you dizzy. When you feel his hands slide over your knees, your head spins even more.

Willingly, you let him spread your legs open so he can settle his hips between them. As he moves in your skirt bunches up, revealing where your socks end to expose the thickest part of your thighs. Like a moth drawn to a flame, his hands are on the skin instantly. For some reason, that part of your leg, specifically when they're spilling over some snug thigh highs, makes Bakugo absolutely feral.

"So you don't care if I get coffee with him?" You ask, bringing your hand to tilt his chin up.

Reluctantly, he rips his eyes away from your legs so he can glare at you.

"I don't give a fuck who you get coffee with." He shrugs before sliding his hands up so he can grab your hips with greed.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed by how little he cares. Where's the guy that fucked your brains out because you simply talked to another dude? You're practically going on a date and he's just… fine with it?

"-But if you're going to get coffee with that damn nerd-" He ducks down and brazenly licks a hot strip up the side of your neck.

The sudden contact makes your eyes flutter as your chest deflates, a shock of heat already thrumming through your core.

"You're gonna do it covered in marks…" He abruptly scrapes his teeth against your throat, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, as if you don't already have enough.

"... And filled with my cum." The statement makes you gasp, there he is.

His fingertips dig into your hips as he pulls you forward on the best, bringing your crotch flush against his while he looks down at you with a patient expression. The feeling of his hard-on pressing against your core will never get old, it never fails you send shocks up your spine and make your cheeks hot.

You're feeling spunky today, dangerously bold. A terrible idea creeps into your mind, wrapping it's fingers around your common sense.

You slide your hands up his abs, allowing yourself a moment to admire how sturdy he feels. Your hands secure themselves on the folds of his collar so you can bring his face back towards yours.

To mock him, you bring your mouth to his throat and let your tongue drag up his hot skin.

"That's funny." You say with a low voice before you plant a kiss right under his jaw.

"He said the same thing." You punctuate your lie with a nip to his skin.

"Oh you stupid woman." He huffs before he snatches you by the waist and hauls you off the desk. Your legs don't get the chance to hold you up, he spins you around and kicks the back of your knees with his shin, causing you to fall forward immediately.

Once you're kneeling he grabs the hair on top of your head and drags you along beside him. You yelp and grab at his wrist as you try to shuffle after him on your knees. He plants himself in his desk chair, not releasing his hold on your roots for a second.

He pulls your head back slightly, glaring down at you with furious ruby eyes. He looks so delicious like this, dressed in all black, hair and eyes wild as he plans how he'll break you.

His other hand comes up to grab your jaw a little too gently, eyes flashing down to where your skirt is still riding up.

"Are you trying to get hurt?" He asks calmly, thumb running over your chin.

"I'm trying to get fucked." You state simply, dropping your jaw open so you can take his thumb into your mouth.

He watches you carefully, breathing a little heavier when you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb before releasing it.

"-But if all you're gonna do is fuck around like this, I think I know somebody who might be up for the job."

All you can register is his face twisting as he realizes which way you're going, before the hand on your jaw pulls back. You brace for the slap, ready to feel the hot pain shoot across your face. Your thighs even clench a little in anticipation, but it doesn't come.

He just chuckles, laughs right in your face as he reaches for the drawer behind him, the hand in your hair releases too.

"Oh, I'm sure he would be." He pulls out a small black bag from the drawer, then slowly unzips it to reveal a wooden paddle.

You can't help but squirm where you sit as you watch him flip it in his hands before turning back to you.

"But there's no way in hell that prick can get you shaking like I can." He sets the paddle on his desk so he can start to roll his sleeves up.

You watch him carefully, nearly drooling over the way his strong forearms flex as he rolls the material of his shirt up. Your hands pull at the bottom of your skirt anxiously, needing to fidget with something desperately.

"I don't know about that, Suki, the shy, quiet ones are usually the nastiest, isn't that right?" You say coyly, trying to regain some control.

You're referring to yourself and he knows it. Hinting at how depraved you can be in the bedroom. You know he's right, he's the only one that can fuck you up the way you need it. It's fun to watch him twitch a little when you hint at Deku being able to compete with him, though.

"Get up here, bend over." He says shortly, neck and shoulders tense.

You're getting to him.

"I think I like it down here, I don't think I want to bend over just yet." You say with a deceptive sweetness.

Feeling bold, you slide your hands up the insides of his thighs, feeling the taught muscle under his dress pants.

Before you can reach his erection, his hands are latched onto you again. One in the back of your hair, the other crushing your throat.

"I fucking dare you, disobey me one more time. You will end up with a busted ass and a ruined orgasm, that's a fucking promise." He snarls at you, bending down so he can glare right into your soul.

His threats don't do a damn thing to calm your rebellious streak, if anything, it lights a fire under your desire to be the biggest fucking brat.

"The busted ass part doesn't sound too bad." You struggle to get the words out, working against the harsh grip on your throat.

He rolls his eyes before almost throwing you out of his hands. He sends one to the collar on the back of your shirt, and the other slides around the back of your thigh. With the new hold he roughly hoists you into his lap. You can't help but squeak when your stomach hits the tops of his thighs. Your knees barely touch the ground and your hands grab at the desk in front of you, trying to steady yourself.

He flips your skirt up and smooths a hand over the curve of your ass.

"Oh trust me, you'll fucking get it." He sends his hand cracking across your cheek, earning an involuntary moan from you.

Your body responds to the sharp pain immediately, cunt clenching and inevitably soaking your panties even more than they already are. You glance back at him as he rubs over the welt he's just created.

"These are cute." He says with a bored voice as he pulls at the string of your thong with one finger.

They're nothing special, a simple pink fabric thong. You didn't put on anything special since you were definitely not anticipating a situation like this to arise. A little foolish now that you think about it, given how many times he's grabbed you by the wrist and hauled in into some forgotten room for a quickie. Never in his office though, especially not during business hours.

Before you can quip back, he's pulling out his pocket knife. He grabs your skirt and hikes it up to your waist before he runs the point of the knife down your lower back. He uses the dull side of the knife, careful not to cut you, but the point of the blade still offers icy friction against your heated skin. Teasing you with the possibility that he could make you bleed.

You squirm in his lap as goosebumps raise all over your skin, pulling a deep breath in when he dips the blade under the waistband so he can flick it up, expertly slicing through the fabric. He makes quick work of it, cutting the pesky fabric out of the way so you're completely exposed to him.

"Does pissing me off always get you this wet?" He asks before flipping the knife away so he can run a finger slowly down your folds.

"That's from thinking about my date later."

That comment earns you a very sudden, very hard strike with the paddle. You bite your fist to muffle the cry that tears out of your throat, desperate to remain unheard by anyone outside of the office.

"Oh hell fucking no." Katsuki growls before quickly snatching up both of your wrists so he can pin them behind your back with the hand not wielding the paddle.

"You want to be a mouthy slut, so be it."

Another skin splitting hit to the other cheek. The pain is blinding, causing your body to jolt and twitch in his lap. You know your ass is going to be purple and welted for days, but there's not a chance you'll complain, because you absolutely love it.

"Is that all you got, sparky?" All you want is more, more bites, bruises, paddles. Anything Katsuki will give you, you'll take it with greedy, desperate hands.

"You're such a masochistic little bitch." His voice makes your pussy contract around nothing, then you feel the shameful sensation of your slick dripping down your thighs.

His hand comes up to grab at the reddened flesh of your ass, digging his fingertips in with a sneer. You feel his dick twitch against your stomach as you writhe from the sharp new pain he inflicts.

"You want me to touch you here?" He ghosts his fingers over your dripping core.

The tease is almost enough to make you break… almost.

"I'd rather save it for Deku."

There is no composed chuckle, no warning swat, not even a breath before you're shoved off of his lap so you can fall to the floor in a pathetic pile of bunched up clothes and desire.

You try to scramble to your knees, but the bottom of Katsuki's expensive dress shoe meets your sternum and forces you on to your back with a harsh push. He moves like a wolf, planting a knee on either side of your chest, caging your arms under his strong thighs. He leans over and seizes you by your shirt collar.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that right?" He barks down at you, eyes ablaze with disdain for your bratty antics.

"You're gonna choke on my cock for that one, smart ass."

You shouldn't get a thrill from such a nasty threat, but your mind spins and your body sparks.

He makes quick work of his belt and pants, shoving them down quickly to expose his straining cock. It never ceases to make your mouth water, every inch is perfect. He's thick and heavy looking with a beautiful curve that feels devine inside you.

"Open up, and don't try anything cute." He huffs before grabbing the hair on top of your head to bring you towards his dick.

He slides into your mouth with ease, sliding the underside of his head along your tongue. You have to drop your jaw pretty much all the way in order to fit him, but you always love that part.

"Look at me, watch me the whole time." He orders, fist grabbing a little more firmly at your hair.

He presses himself into the back of your throat, the taste of the precum he's smeared along your tongue finally hits your taste buds. You savor the taste, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly but never closing.

Your eyes meet his just as you remember to relax your throat and let him all the way in. He somehow slides down your throat even further, balls pressing into your chin. You can't stop the drool that spills from the side of your gaped mouth or the tears that prick at your eyes.

He grins down at you, predatory and ravaging. Your legs twitch as your hands slide up to hold his sides, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as he starts to set a slow pace with his hips.

It's not the merciless throat fucking you anticipated, but he did only just get started. Something deep in your chest resents the slow pace, something depraved inside you wants him to use your throat until you're heaving and sobbing.

You moan around his cock and try to convey desperation in your eyes as you watch him move above you.

"Oh you poor slut, I know you want more, but you haven't fucking earned it." He says as he presses all the way in again, but this time he holds it there.

You dig your nails into his sides and close your jaw around him a little more, teeth teasing the skin of his hard on. His lip twitches into a snarl like a dog about to snap. He snatches your nose with his fingers, closing off your airway. You don't panic, not even close. You just glare up at him, having played this game many times.

"Little miss composed, huh? How about now?" He presses impossibly far into the back of your throat.

For the most part, your gag reflex has been trained out of you, but somehow he hits it right away. You open your airway and attempt to gasp, a fruitless attempt since all you can do is choke on his shaft. He doesn't release the hold on your nostrils, just glares down while you struggle under him.

Suddenly, but not soon enough, he releases your nose and rips himself from your throat. You let him pull you along like a ragdoll as he settles back into his chair, pulling you to your knees as you sputter and gasp and cry. He grabs you by the hair at the back of your head with one hand, and by the jaw with the other, a hold he's always been fond of.

"Now, unless you want to keep choking on my cock, I suggest you remind me who's about to fuck the breath out of your lungs." He says, low and vengeful.

You're nowhere near ready to give in, all kinds of lust oozes through your body. It's spreading like molten lava, destroying every ounce of self control you've ever had.

You feel drool start to pool on your chest, becoming suddenly aware of how much you're salivating.

Oh what a terrible idea.

You spit right in his face, body moving before your mind has a chance to tell it to stop. For the first time since this all started, you feel a little bit afraid. You welcome it though, scarf it down and wish there was more. You're like an adrenaline junkie, and your addiction is the menacing way Katsuki is looking at you right now.

He slowly wipes the offense off his cheek bone, giving a small, astounded laugh before he brings the palm of his hand to crack across your face.

You cry out as your thighs clench beneath you, your body giving away just how much you adore being treated like this.

"Do it again, please fucking do it again, make my day, bitch." Katsuki barks in your face, hands starting to shake a little. He's losing his calm facade, which is exactly what you want. He just needs one final push.

You open your mouth, ready to retort, ready to mouth off like the miserable little brat you are. You don't get the chance though, the words are smacked right out of your mouth as he hits you again. The sharp pain sends another shock of desire straight to your weeping cunt. You cry out as your head snaps to the side.

You take account of the drool leaking out of your mouth, the tears dripping out of your eyes, the slick sliding down your thighs. You're burning up and your vision is becoming unreliable. It might be about time to give in a little, indulge poor, pissed off Suki. You've gotten enough of a beating, now it's time to stroke his ego and get what you want.

"P-please, Daddy, I'm s-sorry." You sniffle, glancing up at him with big, pitiful eyes.

You don't expect the third slap, it's white hot and full of venom. You know without a doubt you'll be sporting a shiner from the assault.

"You're a little liar. You're not sorry, you just want me to put my dick in that stupid little cunt." He's almost yelling, trembling a little more as he sneers down at you.

If he wasn't pissed before, he sure as hell is now.

Perfect.

"How else are you going to send me to Deku full of your cum? Or am I going to have to ask him to fill me up?" Do you ever know when to stop?

"On my desk, now." He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own, he hoists you up by your waist and sets you on his desk. The abused skin of your ass stings against the cool wood. He pulls you by the hips so your ass is sat right on the edge.

He presses his face into your neck as your arms fly around his shoulders. His hot, open mouth against your neck makes you feel so incredibly dizzy. The soft feeling of his tongue contrasting so intensely with how harsh he's been.

"You make me want to blast this whole building to pieces." He huffs against your neck, your hands find his hair and you feel just how sweaty he is.

He braces one arm on the desk as the other reaches up to move your skirt out of the way.

"God, you're filthy. I can fucking smell how soaked you are."

His teeth sink into your neck as he unceremoniously slips two fingers into you. No, he doesn't slip them in, he shoves them in.

"Suki- fuck-" You say before a moan sneaks out of you, falling on his greedy ears.

"Huh uh- you can't keep that prick's name out of your mouth, say his name. I don't want to hear your whore mouth say mine." He crooks his fingers perfectly as you gaze at him with disbelief. The pads of his fingers hit that sweet spot inside you, and all you want to do is cry out for him, cry out his name.

"N-no, please, let me say yours- shit- please!" You shiver when he brings the heel of his hand to press into your clit as he continues to play with your insides.

"Then are you sorry? Really fucking sorry?" He asks as he adds a third finger.

You clench down on him, hips rolling forward as you let out a sad little sobbing sound.

You nod up at him, struggling to find the right thing to say. Obviously, that's not enough for him. He rips his hand out of your hole and slaps your cunt with incredible force.

You cry out and try to bring your legs together, but Katsuki anticipates this. Grabbing the insides of your thighs, he forces your legs open, causing you to lose balance and fall so your back is flat on his desk.

"I'm sorry, I didn't fucking hear you." He says as he grabs his cock and starts to pump himself just inches from your burning center.

"I'm sorry, I am, I'm so sorry, Suki." You say urgently, pushing yourself up on your elbows so you can truly meet his eyes.

Your core just aches as you glance down at his hand stroking his erection.

His free hand comes down against your pussy again, making you jump and whimper. The sting is exquisite, but the throbbing in your walls overrides it.

"I don't believe you, give me one good reason I shouldn't blow my load all over your thighs and send you on your way." His hand picks up speed and you start to panic a little, he might go through with it. You've pissed him off enough, it can't end like this though, no way in hell.

As quickly as you can, you rid yourself of your shirt and your bra. You leave your skirt and your socks on, knowing that combination is a favorite of his. He watches you like a hawk as you lean back down onto your elbows, eyeing the fading bruises all over your chest and down your stomach.

"Because baby," You coo as you bring your fingers to your mouth, "you need me as bad as I need you." After wetting your fingertips, you bring them down to slide over your hardened nipple.

His hand falters slightly as he watches you play with yourself. He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth when you tweak the sensitive bud.

"God- fuck- you little tease." He whines before shifting towards you.

In some ways, Katsuki is a simple man. All it takes it some teasing and some tits and he's a goner.

In the blink of an eye, his hands have a hold on the backs of your thighs as he folds you up. You feel the tip of his dick rest against your entrance and you almost scream.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, are you fucking sorry?" He's on his last leg of restraint, the grip on your thighs is absolutely bruising and you can see beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

"I am! I swear I am, I don't give a shit about him- I don't- fucking hell, Suki!" Before you can finish, his thumb is rubbing at your clit as he slides in.

Every nerve in your body responds as he does, you throw your head back and let yourself feel it completely. The drag along your walls is maddening. The second his head presses into your cervix you moan and twitch, and more tears pour from your eyes

"I'm going to make sure you are." He growls.

After he slowly pulls back, he fucks into you like it's the last time he'll ever get to. Every thrust in makes you see stars. You let a sob wrack your body as you claw at the desk.

"How would you feel if I couldn't stop saying some other bitche's name?" He says as he delivers a particularly harsh thrust.

Your stomach twists at the thought, jealousy claws at your insides.

"Makes your skin crawl doesn't it?"

"I didn't m-mean it, I'm s-sorry, sir." Your body rocks on the desk as his hips meet yours, so much rage behind his movements. You feel your body start to tighten, the nerves in your core start to get that wonderful warm feeling.

"Why do you keep doin' that shit then? Huh?" You feel a small twinge of guilt because of how genuine the question sounds, how there's just a hint of genuine confusion in his voice.

"Baby- I- fuck- I didn't mean it, I swear- shit, I'm so close." Your walls start to pulse around his cock, the rest of you starts to squirm.

"You want me to hurt you? Is that it?" He smacks the underside of your thigh after his question, earning a deep moan from you.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you hurt me." You admit, voice warbling as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

"Then just fucking ask me for it." Then he stops, stilling completely inside you. It's enough to drive you up a wall, your orgasm runs away from you. All of the building pleasure slips through your fingers.

"No no no! Suki please, I said I was sorry, I meant it, please I was so fucking close!" You beg as your fists hit the desk, almost throwing a tantrum.

"Maybe Deku can help you finish." He says shortly as he pulls out and starts to fuck his fist, with a groan and his head back, he finishes on your thighs as promised. You watch in horror as his release paints your skin white, his soft moans and sighs fall on your ears and it makes your heart sink.

He wastes no time in tucking himself back into his pants, making himself look composed in record time.

"I have a lot I need to get done this afternoon, clean this shit up and be home by eight." He says with a flat tone.

You just lay there dumbfounded as you watch him stalk out of the room without a glance your way.

You did it. You pushed too damn far. Katsuki never leaves you hanging like this. There's always a few gentle kisses, a few mumbled reassurances, it's never like this. Even when it was just quick fucks in a closet, Katsuki would offer you a few moments of comfort afterwards. You hit a nerve, you must have. Something far past you're usually bratty teasing.

The sound of the office door closing makes you flinch. You glare down at the mess he's left on you, eyeing the shredded remains of your panties on the floor. No way in hell you're going to coffee with Deku, not with the horrible feeling settling in your gut. You don't know if Katsuki will even want to talk to you, but you have to try, you have to make this right.

Taglist:

@iloveitblackbhna @midnightartist @oblxvion @imonlymildlyinsane @kasumireads @nobody-says-hello @kibayoukai @michigood9618 @evierena @kimchi123n

#bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #mha smut #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugou x reader #dynamight #king explosion murder #lord explosion murder

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kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3

Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 3 .:Resistance and Reconciliation:.

~Previously~

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.

Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.

The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—

No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.

Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:

Maybe Remus was right.

The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.

Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.

He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.

“Revelare Popularis,”

The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.

Was this it? Were you really one of them?

James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.

“Going somewhere?”

“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”

“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”

“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”

“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”

James looked down at the parchment blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”

“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”

“I'm serious.”

James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.

“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”

Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.

“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”

“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”

“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”

The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.

“I. . . w-well. . .”

“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”

___________________________________________________

You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.

Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.

“. . . Black?”

“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”

The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.

“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”

Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”

You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.

“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”

Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.

“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.

“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”

Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.

“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”

“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”

You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.

“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.

“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”

“Everte Statum!”

You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.

You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.

Malfoy.

“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”

Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.

“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”

You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.

“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.

“Potter?!”

James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.

“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.

As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.

“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”

“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”

“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”

Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.

“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”

That did it.

With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.

Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.

“Evanossa!”

A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.

“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.

Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.

“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”

He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.

“Ebublio!”

Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.

“Let me go this instant!” he growled.

A devilish smile graced your features.

“You got it.”

“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”

You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.

You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.

As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).

“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”

“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”

“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.

Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.

Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.

“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”

You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.

“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.

“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”

“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”

“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”

Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sirius?”

The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.

Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.

“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”

His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.

“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”

“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.

“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”

“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.

When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.

Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.

Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.

You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.

“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.

“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”

Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”

“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.

You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.

You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.

The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?

You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.

You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.

“Severus?”

The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.

He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?

Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.

You knew he was there.

The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.

Read chapter 4 here !

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi

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drxwsyni · 3 years

Text

doubts and desires︱albedo x f!reader

summary: letting go of the past is hard, but losing what you have now would be harder. leaving albedo is neither something you can do, or something you really want, it’s simply taken you a while to understand that. word count: 2k warnings: implied dubcon, stockholm syndrome, past kidnapping

Even with how Albedo had bundled you up in a hat, scarf, gloves, and coat―it still failed to ward off the chill that seemingly sucked the warmth right from your body. Yet you said nothing about it, the unwanted attention it would draw from him inevitable if you made your discomfort known. And, you were almost certain he would drag you back to the cabin if he knew how the cold was treating you.

You didn’t enjoy the biting temperatures, but you didn’t want leave. Not when it’s been so long since you descended the mountain, that you barely even remember the feeling of snowfall against your skin.

The whole situation he’s placed you in is really quite foreign―confusing.

In how he’s letting you accompany him in his research, not far from his―your home. A safe distance, so to speak. Or that’s what he said, at least.

You realized that the way he spoke of this outing, how it’d just be the two of you, and that you wouldn’t venture very far; they were words of comfort. Not said to reassure himself that things would go smoothly, but to calm the look of trepidation in your eyes from the mere suggestion of going outside.

Now, seeing Albedo’s nonchalant demeanour while he studies the petrification of a fallen tree, it puts your mind at ease. Sure, if you look closely you’ll be able to see the way his eyes flicker to your form every few seconds or so, making sure you were right where he left you, but generally the alchemist is calm.

It makes you calm, for a moment it feels like you’re able to settle down and appreciate the intricate beauty of the snow swept mountain you stand upon. Best to do so now, knowing it wouldn’t be long until he would lead you home, sheltered safely away from the danger of the mountain’s climate.

“Oh―I didn’t know you were to be researching today, Albedo sir.”

With your back turned to the newly appeared stranger behind you, the cold that had seeped into your bones no longer posed as the only thing holding you in place―it was also now an icy fear.

You watched unmoving from your spot as Albedo gave pause, a hint of contemplation flashing across his face before standing.

“Timaeus. I thought you were studying back in the city.”

The man, who you had yet to properly address, responded with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“Yes, well I was, but it led me to do my own research out in the field…”

Always in a strangely graceful manner, Albedo dusted off his pants and straightened his jacket. A look of unashamed disinterest painted his expression as Timaeus rambled on about his findings.

Truly, you don’t recall Albedo ever showing such emotions with you―a detail not necessarily heartwarming, but still reassuring in an indescribable way.

Perhaps it was due to you being so sure that he’d rid himself of you when you no longer proved useful. Which made the swirling of affection and enamour in his eyes when he gazed upon you settle your nerves, even in just the slightest.

“...which I unfortunately have yet to procure. But―ah, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. My apologies, how is your research coming along. And...who might you be?”

If Albedo recognized the look of severe anxiety flashing across your face, he paid no mind. Instead giving you a small, somewhat warm smile. As if to say, “Go ahead.”

The few seconds that passed were done in silence, you desperately trying to read Albedo’s face for ulterior motives, and the man behind you shuffling awkwardly in place while he waited for a response.

By some miracle, your body moved on autopilot, turning around to finally acknowledge the cause of your newfound distress. Only, you couldn’t even look him in the face.

Your mouth was dry, mind foggy and unable to think of a response that was anywhere near being coherent.

“...I―uh…”

“This is my new assistant. Please do forgive her, she’s quite shy.”

A shaky breath escaped your rigid body at the sound of Albedo’s voice, and the feeling of his hand resting gently upon the small of your back.

The blatant lie that only you and him recognized echoed inside your head.

Timaeus had no clue who you were, or what you meant to Albedo. But if he did know, you wondered what he would do.

“...Ah, it’s strange we’ve never met before.”

You could tell without looking that Timaeus was studying your form. With the way his tone shifted to something a little more unsettled, a pit grew in your stomach knowing how he had picked up on your questionable nervousness.

The hand resting on your back felt a little more heavy.

Albedo showed no signs of botherment, “That’s likely because she’s not from here.”

For some ungodly reason, the less experienced alchemist took this as an opportunity. “Oh, if that’s the case then we should show her around. Sucrose could use someone like herself to―”

“Actually, we were just leaving. I’m afraid I’ve kept her out in the cold too long, and descending the mountain any further is quite a reckless task in this weather―” His head turned to look at you, no longer addressing his student, “―right?”

If Timaeus was told of what his teacher had done to you, would he help? Even if he looks up to Albedo, even if everyone does, surely they would step in.

Only, the issue remained that first you’d have to prove to them you were in danger.

...And really, you weren’t. Not anymore.

The tender bruises around your wrists and ankles had healed long ago. Your health was in near perfect condition, what with how Albedo saw to it that you never did anything to put it at risk. A single and quick glance would show that you were so pristinely taken care of, complexion shining now that you no longer spent nights sleepless from fear.

What were you to even say?

Moreso, it remained true that you didn’t quite want to say anything.

Timaeus wouldn’t believe your truth, and Albedo would likely spin the scenario so that your words weren’t reliable anyways.

It dawned on you that Albedo knew this fact well, why else would he bring you with him if he wouldn’t still be entirely in control of the situation?

A simple movement, his hand drifted to your hip and gripped it firmly, urging.

Your voice, barely a whisper met his ears.

“...Of course…”

That was all he needed, sending an impatient, yet still neutral glance towards Timaeus, the smallest hint of self-satisfaction lingering in it.

His student took the hint.

_____

“I have to say, bringing you with me was quite...productive.”

After dinner, Albedo has you keep him company in his study. You, occupied with a book in a chair across from his desk, while he goes over his findings from the day’s outing.

“Research wise, I was able to study you in a foreign situation.” He continued, conversation one-sided, “The results were to my liking…”

Although construed in his ever sophisticated manner, his words told you that you did something right. He was proud, and that notion made the swell of a strange warmth in your heart grow.

The alchemist’s gaze remained downcasted at the papers strewn about in front of him while he spoke. “...I suppose you should be rewarded for such good behaviour.”

Your eyes flitted up, the story on your lap abandoned completely.

Albedo has never spoken of such a thing, not once entertaining the idea of rewards when he saw no reason to ever extend such gratitude. Even after all this time.

He must be especially pleased, you thought.

Perhaps, enough to grant you back even a small semblance of independence...that would most certainly be your wish.

You’d long grown used to his suffocating personality, the intense interest he paid you often resulting in little to no alone time. Albedo made sure you stayed in eyeshot, and in those inevitable times he needed to leave, he made them quick, and you were to be safely tucked away in the bedroom, door locked from the outside. There wasn’t a single detail he missed, no stone left unturned when trying to improve your security.

Unfortunately for you, it left little autonomy.

Just the smallest taste of self-reliance would be fine. You’d love to cook a nice meal, like the ones you used to make. Or perhaps to pick your own outfit one morning, something more your style than the things he put together for you. Any break from his constant guidance, no matter what shape or form, you’d gladly take―

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then, I’ll meet you upstairs soon.”

Albedo neglected to look up as he spoke, and so he missed how the glimmer of anticipation in your eyes faded away. The way your shoulders dropped slightly, the look of disappointment flashing across your features in understanding of his words.

What he had planned, it was a reward...of sorts.

An excuse, as far as you saw it.

Albedo was known for testing the limits of living beings after all, and in certain ways, such studies extended to how he treats you. It’s a win win for him―he thinks it’s a reward, since he knows he can make you feel good, and doing so just shows him all those little things he can’t learn through idle observation. What makes you squirm or shy away with innocent embarrassment―information just as important as everything else he knows about you.

It doesn’t dissuade Albedo when he finally glances up to see what his offer has done, though the sight does make him feel as though he’s deceived you.

Still, he remains unapologetic. “While you gave me some good insight on how far you’ve...adjusted, I still can’t completely trust you. This merely turned out to be a good opportunity for satisfying your other needs―nothing more.”

Flipping open a nearby textbook, Albedo conveys wordlessly, a difficult habit of his, that the conversation has ended.

You, however, have yet to heed his words. Still seated, the once flickering of hope subsiding with each passing second. Call it grief, but you were sincerely expecting a different outcome. Though, knowing Albedo, and his constant need to grow more knowledgeable, you should’ve seen this coming.

“...I’d rather not have to force your compliance tonight. So, please―” He gestured towards the door with a wave of his hand, focus trained and brows barely knitted while he skims over his readings on the desk.

Honestly speaking, you once thought Albedo was a deeply confusing man. So too was the life he’d meticulously prepared, and swiftly forced you into. Yet, looking back, things may have been more simple than you once perceived.

Your only real job is to exist and comply. And you both know you’re not going anywhere, not going to say no. Especially now, given how effortless it feels to fall into routine, going through the motions of his request and carrying yourself upstairs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s too late for you, what feels like an eternity spent at Albedo’s side having just about rendered your fighting spirit useless. It’s been long since replaced with what you’re coming to know as a certain fondness. You want to see the compassion in his eyes that’s sparked by your willing compliance.

It was a single, tangible goal. Not complex and unobtainable like those tasks of your past life. Attempts at obtaining those desires are futile, when today's events proved you genuinely no longer want them anymore.

It’s much easier to make Albedo proud. You don’t realize that you do it everyday, and that he’s just poor at conveying his own emotions...

Drawing yourself a bath, you wash away past doubts, settling with what your life has turned into.

Distantly, you hear Albedo make his way up the stairs and towards your bedroom. You like knowing what’s to come, which is always something you’ll have with him. You can’t say the same if you leave, and so you finally resolve that you never will.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere albedo #yandere albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere x you #albedo x you #tw dubcon

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years

Text

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

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masterthespianduchovny · 3 years

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I’m going to be honest: I dislike Nate right now.

And that’s perfectly fine.

I understand that this show loves to redeem people, however, as I said in another post, you can only redeem someone if there are negative feelings and/or you believe that person wronged someone or whatever. If you have positive feelings and excuse what they did, what exactly are they being redeemed for?

Despite loving Rebecca’s character, when I rewatch season one, I don’t like her at times. I dislike a lot of what she did back then. It doesn’t matter that I know she tells the truth eventually, the stuff she did was still fucked up. I’m not going to preemptively excuse her actions because I know the end goal.

Take Jamie for instance, his behavior was not okay. We know why he behaves that way, but it still wasn’t justified. We are still allowed to dislike him and what he did then. We talk about the negative effects of the bullying Nate received from the players, yet some try to excuse Nate’s bullying and his actions?

Wrong is wrong. Jamie being verbally abused by his dad didn’t justify how he treated others just like how Nate’s father (and bullying by others) is emotionally abusive doesn’t justify Nate’s behavior.

Although we understand the context, Nate IS being a fucking backstabbing asshole right now. Some may hate to hear that, but this isn’t an unfair opinion or unflattering light of him. This is exactly how he’s behaving.

There are some who has a ton of sympathy for Nate, but I’m not one of them. Please believe, I do hold some sympathy for him, but I have a limit.

So here’s reasons why Nate is on my shitlist and I’ll wait until he’s actually redeemed to forgive him.

1. Calling Rebecca a shrew. It’s not the fact that he literally called Rebecca this, but that he immediately verbally attacked the woman. We can say, “oh no, she’s the owner so he had reasons to think…”

No, Nate literally attacked Rebecca for no reason at all. She had little to no interaction with him and has never disrespected or harmed him in anyway, yet he has these intense feelings of dislike in the moment based off what exactly?

Nate attacked Rebecca because she is a woman. If you disagree, what other reason it might be? The reason I believe it was due to her gender is because she’s been defanged so to speak. So he doesn’t fear her like he used to. But Nate also practices in casual misogyny ie his shoe remark to Rebecca and Keeley. That may not seem like a big thing, but how is that an involuntary response??? With him believing he got fired, he doesn’t wait for answers, he immediately attacks her. And I had to ask myself, would he have done this with a man? With someone like Rupert? No fucking way. Nate can’t even directly challenge Ted who is a ray of sunshine, but attacks someone who he literally ran away from in fear in the pilot. Although Nate respects power, he respects male power the most. He skipped over Ted and Beard and went straight towards Rebecca. The fact that this even happened has always been disturbing to me. And Nate is fucking lucky that he hasn’t said any of his comments to old Rebecca (not age, but personality. 🥺) because she would have fired him. Only due to her relationship with Ted and him getting to let her guard down and find her old self that she frowned and shrugged Nate’s comments off. Most bosses at the very least would’ve talked to Nate and he didn’t get even that.

2. Projecting his daddy issues onto Ted. I understand that nate is going through some tough shit and has been for literally decades, however, that doesn’t mean make someone your stand in dad because they were nice and kind. Ted treats Nate like he does the other coaches, but Nate wants a special and unique relationship that will never exist. Ted is not his father and he didn’t ask for the job or the responsibilities.

I understand that people go through shit and latch onto those who made the rough times easier. I get that. However, all this animosity, scheming, and resentment because Ted isn’t giving the attention he wants. That fucking unfair to Ted. He didn’t ask or sign up to be Nate’s father figure. Yet he’s being punished for not being something he never wanted to be. Never even thought about it.

And because I’ve seen/partially experienced this shit, people getting mad at you for not being who they projected onto, it makes me upset at Nate. Because people like this really do become resentful and manipulative and that is not okay despite their own hurt that they’re dealing with. Why does the person you projected on have to suffer for something they’re unaware of and have no obligation to fulfill?

Nate isn’t just trying to blow up Ted’s professional career, he’s doing it via one of the cruelest ways: using his mental health against him. Thereby exploiting Ted’s trust in him.

Ted has literally changed Nate’s life for the better and rather than have a man to man talk with him, he cowardly tries to sabotage Ted in one of the worst ways imaginable.

3. His cognitive dissonance about how coaching works!!!

This seriously irritates me because, on some level, Nate knows that the very system he’s criticizing is how it works across ALL team sports and with reason.

He wants to be a damn head coach soooo bad—does he think ideas, plans, plays, etc only comes from head coaches???

What does he think assistants are there for?

For those who aren’t familiar with sports and coaching, literally every team sport has a head coach and then assistants under them. These assistant typically specialize in a given thing.

In American football, I believe there are like defensive coaches, strength and conditioning coaches, etc. there are coaches who watch a lot of tapes to learn the opposition and how to make plays to hold them exploit their weakness and tailor plays around that.

Like on the professional level there are so many types of coaches and, hell, not all of them want to be head coaches. Some of the greatest coaching minds aren’t head coaches.

For example, the American basketball team the Chicago bulls fired their coach Doug Collins in like 1989, I think. He was a good coach, but one of his assistant coaches had a basketball IQ out of this world. Doug refused to listen to him, but management fully supported this assistant coach. Now the other assistant coach they were grooming to take over, Phil Jackson, if you’ve heard of him, DID listen to this basketball genius. So much so that when he became head coach after Doug was fired, he continued to implement The Triangle offense that came from this basketball genius, which Phil was known for until he retired.

Nate’s upset that Ted gets all the credit for if they win, he does realize that Ted also gets all the blame for if they lose. Ted has always highlighted his coaching staff and everyone who helped him. He has always stressed that he wouldn’t be where he is without them. And when he loses, he takes full ownership. He doesn’t pass the blame at all.

Does Nate seem like someone who’d take ownership for losing?

Does Nate seem like someone, at this moment, who’d appropriately give credit to assistant or anyone else who helped him?

Would he even listen?

What makes Ted a great coach is that he gives others opportunities to step up to the plate and if/when they succeed, he allows them to shine.

Ted sees the fuller picture, for the most part, and knows how to address his weaknesses and who’s stronger than him in what area. He realized that the team needed a presence like Roy on the team. He knew he needed someone like beard who could absorb insane amounts of knowledge. He saw that Nate had potential coaching ability.

But Nate doesn’t understand the importance or value of this. He also doesn’t understand how instrumental Ted’s philosophy has been in transforming the culture of the team. That this is also a reason why the team is playing better.

So like, yeah, I’ll forgive Nate when he’s redeemed. But these three things are what really irks me about him. Just because I understand why he is acting this way doesn’t mean I have to excuse it when he’s being a dick to others, complaining about shit only due to his ego, and doing fucked up shit like leaking someone’s mental health struggles so he can gain an advantage over them.

Does he think that if Ted leaves/gets fired that he’s getting the job??? I mean hopefully whatever he has going on with Rupert works out (before it inevitably goes wrong) because this isn’t going to turn out how he thinks it will.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #Nate Shelley #I wonder if Rupert is trying to get Richmond back and has some big master plan #I do not want that to happen of course #but what is he planning #probably trying to steal Nate away #and if that’s the case #good riddance #lol #Nate can come back once he calms down and gets himself together

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Red of Overly Sarcastic Productions once said :"If you can imagine your Batman comforting a shared child, then congratulations, you're righting Batman. If not, you're just writing the Punisher in a funny hat". This got me wondering: could the Shadow comfort a scared child?

Could he? You forget who was there to lift young Bruce to his feet at his first brush with death (sadly far from his last).

But it's an interesting question to pose still, because children were straight up not in the pulps, not in any I've read, and I can't recall any episodes of the radio show that feature them much (there's gotta be at least a few, because they had everything in that show). The most interaction I think The Shadow's ever had with children (from comics that I can discuss here, because Marshall Rogers' "Harold Goes to Washington" is way, way too much for me to go into right now, and the less I talk about some other DC comics, the better) is in the Street & Smith comics.

There's Jerry from the Devil Kyoti arc, a kid who was traumatized by an encounter with the villain who Sayre's looking after and who ends up having some kind of hidden power that allows him to see The Shadow and defeat the villain. There was a blonde Jerry who showed up later in the Monstradamus arc, but he isn't a kid so much as he's diet Jimmy Olsen or a replacement for Harry, but he had weird eyesight-based powers and a familiarity with The Shadow, so I assume it's the same character.

There was also Donald Jordan - Shadow Jr, and okay, I may have to talk more about this weird little failed experiment some other time, but the basic gist of it is that The Shadow had a friend in Tibet named Harry Jordan (and someday I'm also gonna write about the weird prevalence and significance of the name "Harry" in The Shadow's mythos in and out of universe) who was murdered, leaving his son orphaned and with nowhere to go. And, I'll admit that I have a real weakness for The Shadow calling people "son", which he does a lot in this story.

And as you can expect, it then turns out that the kid's also learned how to cloud minds and has basically the same powers The Shadow has in these comics, and they solve the mystery of his dad's murder together, and yeah, you can absolutely tell that they are setting up this kid to be The Shadow's Robin. Although, interestingly, they don't have The Shadow actually recruit the kid, instead it's Jordan who asks The Shadow if he can go with him and join his mission, and Cranston even states he's going to have to "earn" his way

"Must I stay here, sir? It will always remind me of dad - I'd like to devote my life to your fight against evil and evil doers!

Now, "Shadow Jr's" career was incredibly short-lived, it only lasted for about two other issues, and I have no idea what happened in his final appearence called "Snake Eyes" in Shadow Comics #77, I cannot find that issue anywhere and I really want to. But the one other solo story of his I've read was...well, I think it kinda illustrates why the idea of The Shadow having a Robin was doomed from the start.

...Yeah. Even The Shadow at his most sanitized and family friendly is still The Shadow, and there's no room for children in his network, obviously he shouldn't and wouldn't have children be in those positions or make decisions expected from grown-ups who have already had encounters with death and danger, why would anyone do that-

The only instance I can think of The Shadow interacting with a child in the pulps was during The Prince of Evil, when he has to rescue a young boy from Stark's thugs.

Cranston, dazed, tried to stagger to his feet. Before he could do so, the thug had picked up the limp figure of the boy and was darting out into the street. There was a scream of horror from pedestrians.

A heavy truck was racing at top speed along the avenue. Straight into the path of the truck, the thug threw the senseless boy!

The driver of the truck jammed on the brakes. But it was too late to halt the heavy vehicle. The broad-tired wheels rolled toward the limp head of the lad on the pavement.

An instant before it could crush out his life, Lamont Cranston dived headlong into the path of destruction. His shoulder struck the boy, rolling him toward the curb. A quick wriggle, and Cranston swerved aside from the grinding death that loomed over him.

He picked up the boy. One glance and he knew there was no time to lose. The attempted killer had leaped into a waiting sedan and had already made his escape.

The boy was all Cranston could see or think about. Brass knuckles had fractured his skull. He had suffered a concussion of the brain. A glance at his bluish lips and the fixed glaze of his staring eyes told Cranston that unless the boy was operated on immediately, he would die.

A leap, Cranston was in his car. He laid the boy gently on the seat beside him, then headed the car toward the nearest hospital. Traffic lights were ignored.

The boy was taken to an emergency operating room and a skilled surgeon went to work. When it was over, Cranston asked only one question: "Will the child live?"

"Hard to say. We'll do our best."

"Spare no expense. Put him in a private room. Engage day and night nurses."

Cranston's face was pale. He knew that he himself was indirectly responsible for the boy's attack. A supercriminal had made a prompt answer to Cranston's message over Jackson's telephone. That telephone must have been tapped. The attempt to kill the boy was a vicious warning for Lamont Cranston to mind his own business about the Harmon family. It was a follow-up of the attack on Jackson's dog.

Cranston felt a surge of hot anger. He kept it under control while he answered routine police questions. He told all he knew - which was nothing.

He had only one angry thought. He intended to drive straight to the office of David Chester. He'd get the truth out of the sleek Chester, if he had to batter him with vengeful fists!

Cranston was actually halfway to Chester's office before common sense returned to him. He realized he had lost his sense of balance. He was behaving exactly as the crooks wanted. He was playing their game, not his!

He parked, and the hot rage drained slowly from him. He stopped thinking about the limp figure of a young lad on a white operating table.

This is definitely because Tinsley writes the character differently than Gibson, but I actually cannot think of another occasion where we got to read about The Shadow actively wanting to hit someone with his fists. It's very, very rare to read about The Shadow actually getting mad in the first place in such an undignified way. And I think with this passage, you'll start to notice a pattern.

The problem isn't that The Shadow cannot interact with kids or that he can't comfort them, he does it to his agents and adults he wants to help just fine, he knows how to address people in their language, or any language. The problem is, The Shadow is constantly surrounded by danger everywhere he goes, because he is The Shadow. He can be any number of things at any number of occasions, but usually, when The Shadow shows up, it's usually because people are going to die, and people are going to kill, and it's his job to address that and work the scales.

Children should not be anywhere near this, and if The Shadow's interacting with a child, it usually means that some grave danger or tragedy fell upon them, and he's here to either prevent greater tragedy or address the fall-out, and he'd be the first to agree that neither of these options should be happening at all. It doesn't mean he's not gonna do what's right and give life and limb to protect them, but, it shouldn't be up to the Boogeyman to look after them in the first place. Maybe it shouldn't be up to the Boogeyman to protect us.

But then again, as I mentioned when I talked about my own reasons for liking The Shadow so much, there are many kids who would like nothing more than to have the Boogeyman by their side to protect them. There's comfort in knowing that the scariest man in the room is unconditionally there to protect you, and that is the comfort that The Shadow gives best. Not as Cranston, not under a friendly face, but as what he is.

Due to a lack of scenes from the pulps or satisfying scenes from elsewhere, I will instead be pulling one from a fan story written by Kimberly-Murphy Smith, editor and writer of The Hot Cornerm where The Shadow rescues a child who was kidnapped for blackmail. I couldn't care less that it's fanfic, and if you do, come back in 20 or so years after The Shadow's been made public domain and it's gonna be just as official as anything licensed (on my “to write about” list: how fickle the separation between “official” and “fanfic” is, and the many times it plainly didn’t exist). There’s aspects of her writing I don’t care for, but I really like this scene and I do think The Shadow’s more gentle interactions with people are necessary to getting the character.

Annabelle.

She stopped crying for a minute. "Who's there?" she said, her voice choked.

A friend. Your mommy and daddy sent me to pick you up.

"Mommy? Mommy's here?"

Sh-h-h. Annabelle felt a gloved hand gently stroking her hair. She's waiting for you at home. So, we need to hurry up and leave.

"'kay." She looked around. "Where are you?"

It's kind of hard to see me. It's dark in here, plus you've been crying so much your eyes probably hurt.

"Yeah."

Don't be afraid. I'm here to help.

"'kay."

The implicit trust of children was simply amazing at times. Adults trembled in fear of The Shadow's wrath, but children somehow seemed to understand that he was there to help them, even if they couldn't see him.

Sit up, Annabelle. I'm going to pick you up. Be very quiet.

One hand took each of her arms and guided them around a neck she could not see. "Why are you wearin' a blanket?" she asked as the fabric of his cloak brushed against her shoulders.

Sometimes I get cold at night.

"Even in the summer?"

Even in the summer. He gently stroked her cheek and wiped away her tears. Now, you need to be very quiet so those bad men in the next room don't hear us. I'll bet you're tired.

She nodded.

He rocked her on his arms, projecting a very gentle hypnotic relaxation into her with his powers as he did. You probably didn't get your nap, either. Poor thing. Lean on my shoulder and go to sleep. And when you wake up, you'll be back with Mommy and Daddy.

She yawned, then snuggled against his shoulder and went to sleep.

The Shadow sighed with relief. Now to get past the men out front. He gently pulled the pistol out of its holster under his left arm and slipped it into the belted waist of his overcoat within easy reach, then secured his grip on Annabelle and draped his cloak over her.

She clutched the edge of his cloak in her hand like a security blanket and snuggled against his shoulder again.

(Art by Jill Thompson)

#replies tag #the shadow #pulp heroes #fanfic #I think about the -Sometimes I get cold at night- response a lot #and how superhero capes can easily be likened to oversized blankets #and The Shadow is one of the main reasons why capes became so popular among American heroes #seriously you can see how practically overnight so many heroes at the time imitating The Shadow acquired capes #and what is a hero if not a childhood fantasy manifest #they are all just wearing blankets to battle #I think my posts are turning into too much of rollercoasters

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merv606 · 2 years

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Help, I can't stop looking at NINY Ralph and seeing sugar baby Daniel, accompanied by the phrase "because you're my good boy." 😔

And you come to me for help?!

Oh giiirrrrllll, imma bout to make it so much worse.

And now all I can hear is that line from Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

Why come to me?! I’m the guy who took the pictures of your wife!

Yeah and you’re also the guy who helped save all these toons.

Great film - any and all excuses to quote it.

Now, where was I?! Ah yes - topping the twink. My favourite subject.

First of all - NINY was peak Ralph Softness™️ and oh so maddeningly pretty - devastatingly pretty and devastatingly soft (but still a sassy baby) - a dangerous combination.

The hair! The face! The pretty pout! Big wide brown eyes - Bambi - peak prey vibes

This look is perhaps only rivalled by KK - given that he’s 22/early thirties for both yet there’s something about the perception of innocence his looks give off.

It’s no wonder they get jumbled up!

Like a baby fawn stumbling around on new legs as it learns to navigate it’s way in a world of predators who want nothing more than to ripe it open and see what’s inside - to consume it’s life to sustain it’s own.

Something something the predator urge to make that which was once a pristine white jagged and red - ripped open and raw.

Sinking Teeth into soft yielding flesh.

Sorry, that got artsy - which is not my forte.

He’s pretty and he’s soft and there’s something about that inspires in people the urge to do something- some people know what that something is and some don’t - which is where the frustration comes in.

The urge to protect yet dominate.

To destroy that which we do not understand and does not fit into our world view.

Such softness and pretty in a man goes against what the world tells us men should be. Goes against what many men strive to be - and here’s this guy who seems fine with it, and everything he is.

To put away the object of (perhaps) forbidden and taboo desire.

No wonder men with these urges already want him in their lap - to pet him and call him pretty but still feel the sting of his bite.

To spoil him while they defile him - to make him their good little boy - a controlled chaos.

Because basically them slender little arms and wrists are made to be held down, and held where you want them - you will not convince me otherwise.

I apologize - this is non sensical ramblings and probably did not address your actual ask.

These thoughts have , unfortunately, no cure.

You just have to find a way to live with them.

#ask #i got an ask!#🤩#Ralph Macchio #Daniel Larusso #Naked In New York

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jwillowwolf · 3 years

Text

Okay, so I have a Theory for what will happen in the Finale, but it comes with a very long rant about my reasoning for said theory, so I’ll put it under the cut. Basically, I just got excited and wanted to talk with someone about what I think will happen and have turned to the internet to share my thoughts. Warning for spoilers from Working Through Intrusive Thoughts bellow.

Before I can get to what I think will happen, I need to explain the context of my thinking. Currently, we have Logan feeling ignored, Roman feeling lost, Virgil feeling defensive, Patton feeling confused, Remus just being his dramatic gremlin self, and Janus is in his element.

Logan himself said to Remus “It’s not every day Thomas... is interested in... carrying out this sort of thing.” Showing that today was important to Logan and spoiled by 1) Remus’s interfering, and 2) Thomas going out with Nico. Not to mention he lost his cool for a second and now we’ve got Orange to look out for.

Now, there are two possible theories I know of on this scene. 1) Logan is the Orange-side, which seems to be the most popular opinion. 2) the Orange-side, similarly to Janus, can possess other sides. Personally, I think that Logan being the Orange-side is most plausible.

We have seen Logan almost lose his temper before when he threw a piece of paper at Roman in ‘Learning New Things About Ourselves’. He seems shaken by that, almost scared of what he did. Or maybe of what could have happened. He looked even more shaken in ‘Working Through Intrusive Thoughts’ when we got a glimpse of orange in his eyes. He knows there is a dangerous side to him, an emotional state of anger and frustration that he’s been doing his best to keep under control.

How much longer will he be able to control it though?

Next, we have Roman still feeling kind of upset towards Patton, if his stiff reaction to him speaking in the end card is anything to go by. I describe him as feeling lost because in a way he’s lost his moral compass. After what happened in ‘Putting Others First’, I think he distrusts Patton and considering he has in a way followed morality’s lead through all of this, he’s now struggling through questions of what he decides for himself is wrong and right. And he needs to get this right because he’s meant to be the hero, the good creativity. Or that’s what he’s believed all this time.

He’s been conditioned to see things in black and white. To him, there’s meant to be a clear distinction between a hero and a villain, which means if he does something that is not considered good then he’s bad. You can see how that mindset affects him firstly in ‘Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts’ “It’s a little like looking into a funhouse mirror, but instead of a giant head, or like, long legs and a tiny torse, …it shows you… everything you don’t wanna be” and then at the end of ‘Putting Others First’ “He’s (Janus) asking us to go back on things we’ve known for years! rights and wrongs, should’s and shouldn’t’s!”

The world is not black and white like Roman was taught, so now he’s lost himself in trying to understand the many different shades of grey around him.

Continuing down the angst road, we have Virgil’s uncharacteristic behaviour towards Patton. Yes, we have seen him act this way before, but ever since the ‘Accepting Anxiety’ arc he’s acted differently. More like his true self with the knowledge that he’s safe and among friends, like Logan said in Fitting In he’s part of the group. So, what changed?

Logically he would act out this way as a part of his fight or flight response, or more specifically he’s fighting against what scares him. He acts this way towards Janus and Remus (although it’s harder with Remus since he’s Remus) he gets defensive, cold, and downright mean because he’s trying to protect himself. My point? Something about Patton is scaring Virgil.

If we look at the relationship between them before Virgil’s behaviour, then we have what happened in ‘Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts'. Virgil was at a terrible point of stress over Remus showing up, mainly because Patton was stressed at Remus showing up. Pat’s knee jerk reaction to Remus and what he contributes sends Virgil into a panic because, in a sense, they’re connected as Thomas’s emotions. This may seem odd but stick with me here.

Fear and stress are the two things that drive Virgil. In ‘Why do we Get Out of Bed in the Morning’, he mentions that Thomas feeling stressed over deadlines and projects causes him to “work overtime”. As for fear, that’s clear enough in ‘Moving On’ parts 1 and 2, with his reaction to Patton’s Room. The strong influence of emotions in Patton’s room may have heightened his function because emotion is a core part of who he is. In fact, in ‘Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts’, Logan asks Virgil how Thomas is feeling. This means that he is just as connected to Thomas’s emotional state as Patton.

There isn’t a clear indicator of what happened between ‘Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts’ and ‘Are There Healthy Distractions’ to prompt Virgil’s behaviour towards Patton. Or is there? Let’s look at what exactly he says to Patton:

First from ‘Are There Healthy Distractions’: “How can Thomas Feel B-A-D with his inner D-A-D?” “I can think of a few ways.” This is the first time Virgil lashes out at Patton, and it’s obvious through the whole episode that he’s stressed out.

He actively wants to address the problem throughout the episode and is in a lot of emotional turmoil since the others seem to be ignoring it while he just can’t. Seriously, the pain piles upon him till the point he and Thomas fall into an anxiety attack.

So why does he antagonise Patton here? Because Patton is the one ignoring the problem. Patton is the one most actively ignoring what happened and Virgil is feeling hurt by that. Sure, Logan is distracted, but Logan understands that there are healthy distractions and can stay concentrated on the movie, causing him to not notice Virgil’s dilemma until later. And Roman is still following Patton’s lead here. When he took a jab at Virgil at the beginning and Patton said, “that’s not nice Roman.” He instantly panicked and scrambled to amend himself.

After ‘Are There Healthy Distractions’, we don’t see Patton and Virgil interact again until the end card of Working Through Intrusive Thoughts. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re giving him permission.” “Well, y-yeah. Of course I would.” Virgil bringing up Patton giving Thomas permission seems out of context, and yet it’s perfectly in line with the ending of ‘Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts’ where Patton said “I can’t control every little thing that pops into your head. This may be unnecessary, but, … It’s okay if you sometimes think some… Icky thoughts, Thomas. You have my… permission”

This begs the question though, why is that the line that stuck with Virgil? Because Virgil doesn’t want to be manipulated anymore.

If we look at his relationship with Janus for a moment, then anyone from a mile away can see the two have some sort of history. Something that goes beyond even Virgil’s past as one of the others. The relationship that they used to have. It’s been established that Remus used to unsettle Virgil, so I doubt they spent too much time together, but Janus? That’s a very different story.

Janus is deceit, lies, and denial so he may have hidden Virgil from Thomas. He may have lied to Virgil about his function to keep him under control. It was the best way he knew to hide Virgil from Thomas. But in the end, Virgil came to the realisation that Janus was a lair and hence they must have had a terrible fallout.

This began his arc as the ‘antagonist’ in Thomas’s life. He no longer allowed Janus to control him and faced the light sides on his own. He fought to have his voice heard along with the rest. Now he’s scared of losing the freedom he fought for via Patton taking control.

He’s been down the road before where he was taken advantage of, and he doesn’t want to fall for that again. Never again.

Oof, okay, now we come to Patton himself. He seems fine from the outside, but we all know that he has a habit of keeping his negative emotions on the down-low. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s done. That doesn’t excuse it, but it does put his behaviour into context.

In ‘Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts’ he realises how his reaction to things has influence Thomas’s wellbeing. In ‘Are There Healthy Distractions’ He’s trying to stay committed to Thomas's decision and not influence changing his mind towards facing the problem. Then in ‘Putting Others First’, we see how absolutely distressed he’s feeling because the influence he has over Thomas could be used for bad and hurt Thomas.

In a nutshell, he doesn’t want to become the bad guy, but he doesn’t know how to correct his behaviour. In ‘Putting Others First’ he even asks Janus “What can we do”. It shows that he knows he’s doing something wrong and wants to do the right thing, but everything he’s ever known has been torn apart and now he’s just left confused.

He doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Remus is just doing what he normally does. He’s functioning just fine and honestly, there isn’t anything much to unpack about his behaviour. He’s being himself. Although perhaps there’s something, or someone, behind what he’s doing.

It’s no secret that Janus is the brains of the two (although Remus can create some magnificent Rube Goldberg machines) and could be the mastermind behind this scheme. Since he was introduced, we knew Janus hid behind lies and worked with complex plans to fulfil his goals. The ending of ‘Putting Others First’ shows that he has a part of himself that is only looking out for others but that doesn’t change the fact he’s planning something.

His words at the end of ‘Working Through Intrusive Thoughts’ “Yes, everything is just… fine.” He knows something is not fine. He may even be behind instigating the entire thing.

This time though, perhaps his scheme is meant for good. He can see how the sides are very different from each other. Their working together as the light sides is incredibly unstable. Thomas's mental wellbeing is practically hanging from a thread.

How do we solve this problem? Expose it. So far, Janus's meddling has been to push things into the light. to get Thomas to face all aspects of himself and better understand the complexities of the world.

The truth needs to come out before things can get better.

And all of that brings me finally to the main point of my rant. My personal theory about what will happen with the finale.

Patton and Roman/Virgil currently have an unresolved conflict. That’s what will start the episode. Patton is trying to fix things with Roman and/or Virgil. Logan will try to be the mediator for the situation, and no one seems to be listening to him.

Then Janus shows up and is now on Patton’s side. This is making things worse because well Roman and Virgil still don’t like Janus at all. Perhaps Virgil will even snap and give more context into what happened between him and Janus, comparing Janus and Patton now that Pat seems to be betraying them. Remus even shows up and adds his own comments to further unsettle everyone. The fight is going to get bigger until finally, Logan snaps.

Orange-Logan is now part of the mix, and he is angry. Nothing is holding him back anymore so now everyone is going to have to focus on him. They will listen to him now, which is good, but because anger has taken over, Logan isn’t the same. He’s not able to reason with his own emotions and act as the voice of reason. Everything is coming down!

So now the fighting has gotten even worse, even louder, everyone is stressed and hurt and shouting and then Virgil says “stop”. He doesn’t shout it, he just speaks in a normal calm tone, although his voice is echoing a bit. Everyone does stop mainly out of confusion at his sudden hushed tone, then they see what is happening to Thomas. All their arguing has caused him to spiral into a panic.

Virgil calms Thomas down from his panic, and then Logan from his anger. It’s good for Logan to stand up for himself to be listened to, but anger will get them nowhere. He even apologises for not listening to Logan before things got this bad.

Logan calms down and apologises for his behaviour then calmly calls out the others on their own actions. With a calmer atmosphere, everyone can see a bit more clearly where they were in the wrong and apologise to one another. They talk things out, come to an understanding and resolve their feelings.

Anyway, if you made it to the end of this, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this theory and any theories you have regarding the finale. Thank you for reading and I hope that you have a wonderful day.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virigl #logan sanders #ts logan #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus #remus sanders #ts remus #ts spoliers

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hawnks · 3 years

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Ok ok I got something. Your not super poor and your not super rich. But you live your life on coupons.... all the coupons that you can get. And when hawks meets you and falls in love with you ... he gonna be the ultimate sugar daddy so you don’t have to use coupons again 💋

YEAH (happy holidays all uwu)

[sugar daddy keigo, vague allusion to intimate times, its time for expensive gifts, the only christams fic i will ever write]

It figures that you would have the morning shift on Christmas Eve. It’s an ungodly start time, and you can only imagine how impatient and down right rude the customers will be today of all days. You’ve been working at this place a little over a year, just a few months longer than you’ve been together with your boyfriend. It’s as decent as any slog job could be, which isn’t very, but better than most you suppose. At least the uniform is cute.

Mostly it’s made bearable by the man wrapped around you. When he learned you were living paycheck to paycheck he insisted on taking on some of your bills.

“It’s a gift, babe. Like a fancy sweater or a bottle of wine. We don’t have to be weird about it,” he told you, rubbing your nape with a golden smile.

The idea still made you sweat. But Keigo’s monthly allotment dwarfed your own. By a lot. It was an amount that had you gaping when he finally broke down and told you, assuring you all the while that it’s fine, he wants to do this for you.

“Some of your bills” ended up being almost all of them. When you logged on to pay your water it was already taken care of. Same with electric and gas. He even took care of your yearly recycling fee.

You know he would have paid your rent too, if he was able. But your old fashioned landlord still asks for checks in person, and you stubbornly refuse to give Keigo the address. He could easily hunt the information down, but he wanted to respect your wishes. Even if he pestered you for a week straight about telling him.

But … you felt guilty for how much he spent on you. And how much you enjoyed it.

Keigo, however, seemed ecstatic that you had lost the fog of worry hanging over you. You managed to save up a little nest egg for emergencies. You had cash left over to buy appliances that made your life ten times easier. You tossed your overwhelming stash of coupons. You even bought a set of silky underwear as a surprise. It was very much appreciated.

You hate to admit that having money is making you freer and happier but—it’s the truth. Keigo was right; it’s a gift. One you indulge in to the utmost extent.

So when your alarm goes off you don’t really mind that Keigo reaches over and immediately slams the off button, tugging you deeper into his chest and murmuring that you should go back to sleep. He’ll be awake to make sure you’re ready in time.

Except—he doesn’t.

You wake again with a start. The room is considerably and concerningly much brighter, and you squirm out of Keigo’s hold, batting at the mess of blankets searching for your phone. When you find it and check the time, you almost drop it again. You were supposed to be at the shop fifteen minutes ago.

Keigo is awake, of course, and watching you with a lopsided grin. “Babe, come back to bed.”

You barely hear him, trying to get ready as quickly as possible. You throw on your uniform and try to assemble your hair into something more respectable, ignoring his bedside chatter.

Your morning routine is a whirlwind of dropped items and forgotten steps. Keigo finally puts an end to it when you trip over the boot you just dropped.

“Dove.” His grip is firm around your hips. He turns you so you’re facing each other, drops his forehead onto yours. “Take a breath.”

You do. It barely helps the jitters you feel over missing your shift.

Keigo sees this. He gives you a squeeze before his hand slips to your lower back, pulling you into him and rubbing big, warm circles against your skin.

His voice is a little too casual when he says, “I think you should just quit.”

Your knee jerk reaction is terror. Then you remember that you don’t have to worry about money anymore, and any argument you could muster feels silly. “But, my apartment...”

He pulls back to fix you with a grimace. “You hate your job.”

“Maybe not...hate.”

“You strongly dislike it.”

“Yeah.”

“Quit.” He pinches your nose before you can respond, saying. “I’ll take care of it.”

He must see the skepticism in your gaze because suddenly he’s pulling away, reaching into his pocket. It’s your robe, silky and soft and teasingly short, one of the things you bought yourself with the money you saved. Seeing him in it settles some of your frazzled nerves.

“Here,” he says, dangling something shiny and bright in front of you. “I wanted to surprise you, but I guess now is as good a time as any.”

You slip the object off his finger—keys. “Is this—“

“A house. Bought and paid for in full.” He takes out his phone, flicking through a series of photos, showing you the place. It’s exactly your taste, the color, the appliances. “We can go look at it today, if you want.” He peeks at you, taking in your expression, your posture. His tone is still confident, but you catch the uncertain lilt taking root. “If you don’t like it we can find another one. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come look at places with me, I just thought it would be nice, yknow? A cute little Christmas thing. But we can—“

You stop him with a kiss. Your fingers tighten around the keys. No way he’s taking them from you now.

“Keigo,” you whisper against his lips. “I love it.”

You didn’t really take in any of the pictures he’d shown you, too shocked by the fact that he had bought you a house. What you love is the spare time it will allow you to spend on Keigo, with Keigo. What you love is him.

“Yeah?” he says. He pulls away to press butterfly kisses against your cheeks, your forehead. “Good.”

You still end up at the shop. You can’t leave your coworkers to work Christmas Eve alone.

But when you get home you spend a couple hours saying thank you to your thoughtful boyfriend. They may or may not include some expensive panties, and a silk robe.

#keigo x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #sugar daddy hawks #uwu #ktrk5

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Text

Three Asks

It’s been a while since we answered some asks so today and maybe tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, we’ll collect some and answer them since we’ve gotten while a few in the last two or three weeks.

In today’s post I picked out the three most recent asks we’ve received, two of which are ones I’d usually just delete because answering is pointless but one of them showcased a popular pattern so we decided to reply just this once. So this time around the questions are about Namjoon and Seokjin, next time we’ll do ones about Tae and Jimin (and vmin), and so on.

Ask 1 - Did Namjoon have to bring up the criticism he received in 2015/16 in the Juju Chang interview?

Ask 2 and 3 - questions from either diet solos (someone who isn’t quite a solo stan just yet but exhibits the same thought patterns as solos do) or full on solo stans.

From anon: So you must have seen their interview alongside the President right on a news show? Most of it was fine and I liked how involved they were especially JK, but a point Namjoon made is what I'm kinda dicey about. He addressed that they were called out for WoH lyrics but the thing is I'm not sure if it needed to be brought up. Especially in American media and the way they contextualize things..

Obviously he meant that they grew from it but not sure if that was the way to put it I guess?

I will admit, there aren’t many times when asks that get sent to us annoy me, but this one in conjunction with the absolute nonsense that took place about this on twt just made my blood boil. Let’s look at the question and answer so we have full context when it comes to the interview and then, after that, we’ll look at the greater context of why Namjoon saying what he did is significant and a big deal.

Juju Chang: You guys are an all male band and, let’s face it, Korea, historically, has been a very male dominated culture and yet here at the UN one of the core values in Sustainable Development is educating women and having gender equality. You have a lot of female fans. What would you say to them about gender equality and working towards that?

Namjoon: Personally, I received a lot fo criticism regarding misogyny in 2015 and 2016, which led me to get my lyrics reviewed by a women’s studies professor. That experience, in turn, was an opportunity for me to self-reflect and question whether I’d been insensitive toward gender equality. I want to do the best I can to take interest in the topic, learn and make improvements. That’s my perspective now.

Namjoon used a personal story as framework to showcase that even someone like him, a man in a position of power/influence from a country which, as the interviewer explained, is very male dominated can learn, grow and, in the long run, contribute to change. It takes tremendous bravery to do something like this, to not only admit that you made such a mistake, but also to take it and grow from it, take the time to reflect and strive to better yourself to never repeat it again. And also talk about doing so not only during an international broadcast but also while your own president sits right there next to you.

Perhaps there are a relatively big number of countries in the west where equality is much closer to being a reality, where it is a core value to respect woman, one that you are raised with, but here the context was specifically BTS and their background, their country and their culture. From K-ARMY we know that things have taken a turn for the worse in Korea when it comes to women’s rights and the behavior of men toward them, how feminism is treated essentially as a dirty word and you will get hunted down for using it or for behaving in a feminist manner. Namjoon himself was placed on some list made by misogynists labeling him as a dirty, dirty feminist. The same men who even went after the military to get them to stop using a hand gesture which could, if you really want to, be used to make fun of a man for a small d*ck. In polls men in their 20s and 30s have voted being against feminism and I don’t mean just like 10 or 20% of voters, but rather 50-70%, even some presidential candidates have apparently been revealed as anti-feminists.

Circling back to Namjoon, having this context, do you now get why it was a big thing for him to say this, why it makes him a role model and why it was important to do so? Besides this isn’t just about the WoH lyrics which, to be frank, were never an actual issue but instead were made into one (the line I know that usually get’s brought up most is “The girls are equations, and us guys are solutions” which, if you think about it, actually means that boys and girls are equal since 2+5=7, the equation and the solution are the same, and also the song is satire about hormonal boys and their behavior which people have decided to ignore for the sake of sitting on their high horses instead). Namjoon wasn’t even the only member credited for the lyrics yet he took the blame upon himself, used this to better himself even though we know 2015 was an extremely dark time for him. But he is the leader, he took responsibility and he grew from it. He stands as example of how change is possible even in a country that is male dominated and misogynistic.

From anon: Reading your post about My universe I can’t but be heavy hearted.

It’s such a beautiful song but Jin not having almost any lines ruined the experience for me. He deserves so much more than being a mere backup vocal. Same goes to Jimin but I’m not as effected as Jin, since we’ve all seen a pattern there.

We know the boys decide collectively decide LD and how it fits their personalities and voices but I can’t but feel icky about Dynamite, not today, BS&T and now MY.

I truly hope this doesn’t continue and BH decides to respect Jin more as an artist. He’s one of the biggest reasons the group is where it is now.

Though I can’t say with 100% certainty that this comes from someone that has consumed too much solo stan “content”, it does very much feel like it and the only reason why I’m even answering this is that I’d like to highlight something, a pattern we've seen a million times over for years now in regard to line distribution but that is even more glaring and flawed in this case, after we’ve seen how My Universe was recorded:

“We know the boys collectively decide” and yet “and BH decides to respect Jin more”, with this you’re basically saying that you know all the members, including Seokjin, are involved BUT since giving him and the others slack for it would make you look bad, you instead throw blame at BH, which in this case had no say in the line distribution. That choice was Christ Martin’s to make. If you already complain about line distribution, at least have the guts to direct your hate at the people you just said yourself make the choice--the members. Solos already belittle Seokjin’s efforts as it is, and constantly demand an acting debut of him which basically, to me, just comes across as them wanting him to act because they don’t value his singing and music, so would it be really that farfetched for them to also hate on him for, what, not speaking up and demanding more to satisfy you?

Seokjin was so happy and excited while recording My Universe, while meeting Chris Martin, someone he’s admired and been a fan of for so long. He gave his best while recording and sounded absolutely marvelously, and yet instead of celebrating him, his voice, and what we do hear of him, you just focus on the negatives.

BH isn’t perfect by any means, don’t even try to come into our asks calling me a company stan or whatever because I’m far from it, but in this case they had nothing to do with it. Coldplay and Chris Martin did. We saw all the members record the chorus, and we heard it, we saw and heard Seokjin sing absolutely beautifully and get praise for it, and we saw how happy this collab has made him. Why can’t you just let this be a happy time, why must you immediately search for things to be negative about?

Would I have liked so hear more of his voice on My Universe? Obviously, I even said as much in my post about the song. I love Seokjin and his voice a lot, he is my bias wrecker for a reason. But the song has already happened, been recorded, mastered, and released. What will a negativity parade change? What? Absolutely nothing except for make him feel bad because you can’t just say “Seokjin did amazingly, I love his voice”, no, you have to go around yelling “OMG he is being cut from the song because BH hates him”. What does that do for him? Like really, tell me, because I don’t get it.

And if my opinion isn’t valid enough for you, it is, after all, just an opinion, take Seokjin’s opinion about the collab instead:

Or asks such as this one:

From anon: I honestly can’t wait for Seokjin to go solo one day. Go where he’s appreciated for his talents and musicality, not cuz he’s just a “hyung” or “comic relief” or “WWH”.

Where, tell me, has he ever expressed an interest in going solo? No, I’m serious, where, because all I know is that he is happy with his members, with what he does, that he enjoys making music and getting more involved than he used to. Just the other day during the interview with Juju Chang he spoke about how he misses the old times where he could go for soju and food with Yoongi to spend some time together.

And just a few years before that Yoongi said that Seokjin has been good from the beginning, and there are tons of other examples of the members praising Seokjin in terms of his voice and musicality. When he was going through burnout last year, Bang PD encouraged him to channel his thoughts and feelings into music, recommended him a producer he thought work well with him, and Seokjin said it really did help him. And we got Abyss as result from it all, a gorgeous and raw song.

Yes, he gets praise for being a good hyung, because guess what, he is a good hyung. Maybe for you that’s not good enough, but he’s proud of it, has always taken the fact that he’s the eldest seriously even when goofing around with his members. How is that a bad thing?

Seokjin loves his members and they love him. Seokjin loves ARMY and we love him back tenfold. Just because solos hate the members and aren’t satisfied with Seokjin, how is that my issue or even his? If you’re a genuine fan of his, support his hard work, support all his contributions to BTS’ music, their performances, their dancing, and everything else. Because he is part of BTS regardless if you like it or not, and as far as we are aware, he doesn’t plan on changing that any time soon, or at all.

#answered ask #namjoon #seokjin

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